


Prodigal

by fufaraw (arliss)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Kidnapping, M/M, Mpreg, Rape/Non-con Elements, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 23:39:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 44,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15351303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arliss/pseuds/fufaraw
Summary: Summary:Kidnapped at fourteen, Jensen escapes when he’s seventeen. Now he has to learn how to live with the changes in his life.Written forspn_j2_bigbang2018Also visitliliaeth's wonderfulArt Master Post





	1. Chapter 1

 

Alan and Donna Ackles' fourteen year old son vanished on his way home from school one Thursday afternoon. In spite of police, FBI, and later private investigations, in spite of an Amber Alert, search parties, scent dogs, and store window flyers and milk carton pictures, in spite of volunteer phone banks to receive phoned-in tips and online techs screening tweets that Jensen had been seen, alone or accompanied by a man of varying descriptions, an older couple, a woman and several other kids, in an old blue van, in a seven-eleven, in a mall in Provincetown or a church in Duluth—in spite of everything, there was no evidence, no real proof any of those sightings were of Jensen. There was no body found, no remains, and no closure for Jensen's family.

 

It had nearly wrecked them, individually, and as a family. Donna raged and mourned and hoped, and then tried to stop hoping, because it hurt too much. Mackenzie mourned too, missing her brother, and also fearful that if he could be taken, so might she. Alan tried to reassure her, but he wasn't sure he'd been successful. As days and weeks, eventually months went by, and Mack got used to Jensen's absence, her fearfulness faded, her natural eager joyfulness returned, and though she spoke wistfully of her brother once in a while, she seemed to have accepted what now was normal, for her family. Alan worked, following up with police and FBI, with the phone banks, and online sites, preoccupied with the search until his boss took him aside and told him he needed to refocus on his job, or Bruce would have to let him go. Alan took stock of the situation, and reluctantly took a step back. He never gave up hope some trace of Jensen would be found, but he shifted his focus away from the hunt, and tried to be a more attentive husband, father, and employee.

So when the land line which Alan had procrastinated removing from the home office rang, he recognized the adult baritone voice on the other end of the line, even though the last time he'd heard it was still breaking from a pre-adolescent treble. "Jensen?"

"Can you come get me?" Yes, of course, where—? But he had to promise first, swear several times over, "Don't tell Mom, okay? Or anybody else. And Dad, swear to me, no police."

"But-why--?"

"I'll tell you when you get here, I'll tell you everything. But you have to promise. Please! No police!"

 

Two hours to the rendezvous point, and Alan left a voice mail for Donna that he'd had to leave suddenly on business. He was sorry he couldn't pick up Mackenzie after school, so could she please arrange that? He'd be back tomorrow, or the next day, he'd call and let her know more when he knew something concrete. And he called his boss to ask for a couple of unexpected days off. His schedule cleared, he drove, and tried not to let the questions he could barely formulate overwhelm him.

The rendezvous point was nothing more than a highway mile marker. "Don't stop," the voice on the phone had said. "They might be watching." And Alan was left to wonder who might be watching. There shouldn't be much traffic, if any, so pull over and slow down, the voice said, and Jensen would be there.

Alan didn't expect the fourteen-year-old he last had seen, but the tall, slender figure who ran out from among the trees before the car even began to slow, hand pulling the door open to tumble into the seat, was completely unfamiliar. But the green eyes that met Alan's own were as familiar as anything, and when Jensen pulled the door shut and said, "Drive, Dad!" he obeyed.

Jensen stayed crouched below window level; curled in the passenger seat, dirty bare feet and long legs filling the footwell. One hand, though, reached out and grabbed a fistful of the hem of Alan's shirt, and didn't let go.

"Jensen? Can you tell me what's going on? Where have you been all this time? And why didn't you want me to call the police?"

The boy sighed. "Just drive. Get us at least a hundred miles from here, or more. Then we can stop at whatever town is closest. We can get a room, some food, and I'll tell you everything, I promise. But for now, can you just trust me and keep driving?"

Alan wanted to refuse. He needed answers, and he'd been patient enough to come alone and without telling anyone that Jensen had reappeared after three years of just being...gone, without explanation. He didn't want to wait anymore to find out why. But the fist tightened where it was clutched in his shirt, and the kid sighed a huge sigh, and familiar green eyes met his. "It's really good to see you, Dad."

Alan palmed a headful of shaggy, dirty hair, and nodded. "Good to see you too, kiddo." The answering smile was as sweet and as bright as always.

Jensen shifted position, and seemed to settle and relax. "I've been on the run for a couple of days. Is it okay if I nap till we get there?"

And Alan could only nod. The kid sighed again, settled on the seat and was asleep in minutes. Alan mentally reviewed what he knew of the region: a hundred and ten or twenty miles would put them near the town of Bedford. Big enough for fast food places and a couple of motels, but not a big metropolis, it would be a good place for them to stop for the night. Alan checked the gauge; he wouldn't even have to stop for gas before they got to Bedford.

 

Jensen was just waking up as they entered the city limits of Bedford. His belly growled and Alan grinned at the sweetly familiar grumpy, half asleep expression on his son’s face. He could see the circles under his boys eyes and his hands tightened around the steering wheel in anger, as he turned into the first fast food joint they came to.

Jensen had no preference, "Whatever," so Alan doubled his own order of burger, fries, and coke in the drive-through, and found them a motel. "A smaller place," the boy asked. "Rooms that open onto the parking lot—no lobby or interior corridors, no elevators."

Alan paid for the room and parked in front of their door. He retrieved his gym bag from the back seat, leaving Jensen to bring the food, and unlocked the door, flipped on the lights. Jensen ghosted past him, set the food bag on a dresser, and swept the room with a quick, assessing glance. Alan threw the gym bag on the nearest bed, shut the door and flipped the security bar, and turned to hold out his arms. Jensen's long thin arms went around him and he suddenly had an armful of kid—his kid, missing for three years, and found again.

Alan held on tight, and Jensen just as tight, as Alan took stock. Taller than him, now, but thin, ribs evident. He loosened his arms and took a half-step back to see better. Jensen was looking too, hungrily. But there was something skittish about him. His body was quarter-turned away, and his eyes glanced at his dad beneath his brows and away again, he couldn't seem to look straight at Alan, his head lowered to hide his expression. Alan wasn't having any distance between them; he stepped up and wrapped Jensen in another hug, just breathing, before letting him go again.

"It's good to have you back, son." There had to be a story, and like as not it was bad, at least in part. But he couldn't stop the smile of gratitude. "We missed you so much."

Jensen ducked his head again, but one hand caught in Alan's shirt, bunched it in one fist, holding on as proof of reality. "Missed you, too," his voice was choked. Alan palmed the back of his neck, not pulling, just as an anchor.

"What happened, Jensen? Where've you been?"

A gasp and a sob, and the boy began to shake, eyes tight shut, unwilling to meet Alan's gaze. Alan reeled him in again, wrapping him up tight in an embrace, trying to convey that nothing—nothing—was going to take his boy from his family again.

Jensen shuddered against him, arms coming up, hands fisting in the back of Alan's shirt. He sobbed again, once, and drew a gasping breath. "It was wolves, Dad. They took me. They _bit_ me. They. They _turned_ me." Alan's embrace loosened in shock, and Jensen let go his grip on his dad's shirt, and took a step back. He tried, Alan could see how hard he tried, but he couldn't meet his dad's eyes. "I'm a werewolf, Dad."

 

An hour, a little more than an hour later, Alan watched his kid sleep while he decided what to do next. He'd promised no law enforcement, and he intended to keep that promise as long as he could. But they needed help and advice, so he called the only person he knew who had any dealings with werewolves, his boss. He kept his word and didn't mention Jensen, only asked for a contact that could help. Bruce was curious, of course, but he didn't push, and he gave Alan a name and a phone number, and promised to alibi Alan if Donna called. On his part, Alan said he'd reveal everything when he could, and thanked him.

Feeling out of his depth, Alan dialed the number. "Mr. Omundson, Bruce Babcock gave me your number, said you could help us. I know it sounds crazy, but my son says he was kidnapped, bitten, and turned by werewolves. He's been kept prisoner for three years, and has just now gotten back in contact with me. He's insisting that local law enforcement may be involved with these wolves and doesn't want to trust them, but he's scared the ones who took him want him back, and will come after him. We need help."

Fearful of having his preposterous story dismissed with laughter, Alan sagged a little in relief and gratitude when the voice on the phone deepened, asked few further questions, and gave simple instructions for the following day. Alan made a few notes on the motel scratch pad, and thanked Mr. Omundson before he hung up. He gathered the fast food trash, dumping it in the wastebasket, and went to take a shower. His spare t-shirt and briefs from his gym bag had gone to Jensen after his shower, along with the sweatpants, hoodie, and flipflops for him to wear the next day. Alan used the trash liner from the bathroom to bag the t-shirt and sweatpants Jensen had been wearing. Obviously not Jensen's own, the shirt was worn and washed nearly transparent, so large it billowed around the boy's lean body, and the pants were wide, and made for a much shorter man. Alan didn't want to leave them; vague notions of wolves tracking Jensen by his scent on the clothes, or maybe forensic clues on the fabric—whatever. He wrapped them in plastic and shoved them to the bottom of the gym bag.

He scrubbed off the day in the shower, pulled on the same t-shirt and briefs, and crawled into the second bed. Light from the partially open bathroom door spilled across the blanket-covered shape in the other bed—Jensen. His boy, whom he'd despaired of ever seeing again, found. Alan wanted to celebrate, to indulge in his relief and joy. But shock and dismay at the change in his son diluted that joy, and worry over the kid's future. But that would have to wait until tomorrow, and the meeting with Omundson.

 

Drive-through breakfast next morning, a stop to fill the gas tank, and they were leaving town behind, headed northwest as Omundson had directed. Jensen slowly relaxed as they drove, the road bordered on both sides by forest. He asked about his mom, and Mackenzie, and anything Alan could tell him about his friends from school. There wasn't much to tell. The family had gradually lost touch with the kids, for the most part, as they matured and drifted away. Jensen seemed to let that go, with some unspoken regret. After a while, he dozed, head nodding, until he leaned against the window glass and surrendered to the hum of the tires and the forward motion of the car. Alan let him sleep.

Lunchtime found them in a small town more than midway to their destination. Alan offered to find a diner, but Jensen said no, to stick with takeout. They found a shady place to park and eat their burgers—two for Jensen, and a strawberry shake. As they drove through town, Alan spotted a thrift shop and stopped. They found a couple pairs of jeans and some decent t-shirts that fit Jensen, two overshirts, a belt, and a hoodie of his own. There was a pair of work boots in decent condition that fit him, so they added them to the pile, along with a nearly-new backpack to hold everything, and Alan even found a change of clothes or two for himself. He stopped again at a chain store for toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, razors and shave gel, and a new pair of sneakers for Jensen, and picked up multiple packs of briefs, socks, and undershirts for them both. He had no idea how long they would be away from home, but at least now they were better equipped. Jensen changed into jeans, t-shirt and button down, socks and sneakers, and they headed for the town that was their destination, less than two hours away.

They parked in the lot of the motel as Omundson had instructed. Jensen was reluctant to enter the lobby, but a glance inside showed a glass wall on the other end, doors wide open to the pool area beyond, and no one in the lobby itself except the man at the reception desk. With an air of steeling himself, Jensen followed Alan inside. Before they reached the desk a tall, distinguished gentleman with a mane of iron grey hair apparently materialized from the shadows and stepped forward to meet them.

"Alan?" he inquired, and at Alan's nod, he offered a handshake. His white shirt, tailored black suit and silk tie put Alan in his jeans and sneakers at a disadvantage, but the man's smile and his handshake were warm and reassuring. He included Jensen in his smile, but didn't greet him by name, or offer to shake his hand. A touch at Alan's shoulder directed him toward a door opening off the lobby, and they moved in that direction.

The room was a small conference room, with a table and chairs for eight; at the far end of the room was a seating area with comfortable looking armchairs, sofa, and lamps. The lighting was muted, but the drapes were open to a sunny courtyard, and indeed, the glass doors were open, too. Birdsong and a breeze stirring the trees that fringed the patio just outside muted the traffic noise.

"I'm Timothy Omundson. I'm very pleased to meet you both." He moved toward the sitting area. "Come, sit. Make yourselves comfortable. Can I offer you something to drink?" Omundson gestured toward a side table that held cans of soda, water bottles, glasses, and ice. There was a coffeemaker, a thermal urn of hot water, cups, baskets of teabags and sweetener packets, and a lidded cream pitcher. Alan snagged a water bottle for himself and, after a glance and a nod from Jensen, another for the boy.

"I'm so glad you called. Bruce was absolutely correct to refer you to me." Omundson looked from one to the other. "I'm one of four alpha lieutenants for the Ghost River Pack, I represent and report directly to the Pack Alpha. Believe me, we deeply regret what has happened to you, Jensen," he gazed at the boy for a moment, but didn't appear upset when Jensen didn't respond, but kept his gaze focused on the floor. Omundson turned to Alan to continue. "The Alpha himself has ordered a thorough investigation. These wolves will be caught, and they will be punished, made an example of. This sort of thing is never supposed to happen," his tone was grave and somehow apologetic.

"Turning a human is a serious business, and by our law and custom is _always, only_ at the human's request. Turning someone against their will is a very serious crime among werewolves, and kidnapping is every bit as heinous a thing as it is among humans—especially when the victim is a child."

Omundson stirred, shifted on the cushion of his chair before he continued. "There has been some trouble with a separatist sect of wolves. They believe in a more primitive lifestyle than most of us. They live apart, and refuse to honor or keep the laws we have forged to make life alongside humans possible, and beneficial to humans and wolves alike.

"Somehow, Jensen attracted the attention of these wolves; they decided they wanted him, they stalked him, and they abducted him." He had been speaking primarily to Alan. Now he bent his head to seek Jensen's eyes. "How much have you explained to your dad, Jensen?"

Jensen's lips pressed together and he shook his head.

"What? Jensen, what haven't you told me?" Alan's alarm rose.

Omundson spoke directly to Jensen, kindly, gently. "If you find it too difficult, I can explain. It's all right."

Jensen's gaze flickered up to Omundson's face, briefly, and he nodded, once. He sat tense, his posture pulled in, almost defensive, and Alan wanted to reach out and touch his son in reassurance, pull him in for a hug, but Omundson's hand on Alan's arm distracted him.

There was a quiet knock on the doorframe, where a young man in jeans and a polo shirt stood. Omundson nodded at him, and turned to Jensen. "Jensen, I doubt you've seen a doctor since you were turned, am I right?"

The boy gave a single, tense nod. His posture had gone rigid, his eyes wide, and it was obvious he was preparing to either run or fight.

"Jensen." There was a note in Omundson's voice that caught Alan's attention, but seemed to affect Jensen even more, as he appeared to relax some of his building tension. "It's all right. This is Paul, he's a medical technician. He's just going to take your height, weight, check your blood pressure, that kind of thing, and have you answer a few questions. Nothing invasive or painful, I promise." He waited a beat, till Jensen's gaze flicked up for a second to meet his own, and the kid nodded.

Alan reached out a hand to clasp his shoulder. "You sure, son?" and Jensen nodded again as Omundson repeated, "He'll be fine. Don't worry."

As Jensen rose and crossed to the door to follow Paul, Omundson told him, "Your dad and I will have a chance to talk while you're busy."

 

Omundson suggested they step outside. There was a walking path behind the motel that wound through a wooded area, and Alan had to admit getting outside and moving felt a little better.

"Alan—may I call you Alan? And will you call me Tim?"

"Of course."

"Thank you. Perhaps if I go through some general information first, you can ask questions, and then maybe we can discuss further?" At Alan's nod, Tim continued.

"As I said earlier, this sect of werewolves holds primitive beliefs that most of werekind have left behind. We've moved forward, toward more civilized and enlightened beliefs. The Fenris pack clings to the old ways, and among those is the practice of mate-theft."

"...mate..?" Alan wasn't clear on the meaning, but he had suspicions.

"Yes. They believe alphas have the right to take any omega they find appealing, and keep them as their own."

Alan was increasingly confused. "Omega? What—"

Tim took a breath before he spoke. "I'm so sorry. I forget that many humans aren't actually aware of, let alone familiar with, our existence. Let me try to explain, and if you have questions I'll try to answer them."

Watching Alan for his response Tim was gratified to see the man gather his focus and put his alarm and questions aside for the moment. He met Tim's gaze with his own. "Please," he said.

Tim nodded approval. "Bear in mind that we are a different species from humans, we evolved differently, for whatever reasons nature saw fit. Humans are predominantly male and female, and human society has been built on that arrangement. Though your society is coming to accept greater parity between the sexes, reproduction remains a matter of the male impregnating the female, and the female gestating the child and giving it birth."

Alan didn't reply, just regarded Tim, waiting.

"Werewolves have three genders," Tim went on. "It has to do with reproduction, of course, but it's also a matter of family, of pack, of how our society works." A side glace showed Alan was listening. "Alphas are more aggressive, bold and prone to action. They defend the family, the pack. The head of the pack, both family and extended family, community, is always alpha."

Alan nodded, absorbing information and waiting for Tim to go on. "Betas are probably more similar to human. They are usually our workers, our facilitators. They are craftspeople, tradespeople; they get things accomplished within the pack. Often they are supervised or take orders from the alphas, but it's the betas who get things done."

Alan nodded, still listening, knowing there was more to hear.

"Omegas are—not weak, their strength is their ability to nurture and care for others. Our artists and often our writers are omegas, but they usually stay close to family; their talents are oriented to the care and well-being of the pack members."

"The thing that sets us apart from human development, though, is that alpha, beta, and omega can be either male or female. Sex roles aren't confined to gender, with werewolves. Betas can mate with alphas, with other betas, or with omegas. There have been alpha pairings, but they are rare. The most usual, and the most successful pairings, when it comes to reproduction, are alpha and omega."

Alan gave a slow nod, and then asked, "So...a female? alpha," he looked to Tim, who nodded. "And a...male omega, can...mate?"

"Yes," Tim smiled. "But the difference is, it's the omega who carries the offspring, and gives birth. Regardless of the omega's gender."

Alan blinked, absorbing this new and unfamiliar information. "Oh."

"It's the alpha who impregnates the omega," Tim continued, gentling his voice. "And humans who are turned are always omega werewolves." He waited for the information to sink in.

Alan stared at Tim in dawning horror. "You mean...my son was kidnapped by those alphas...on purpose? To turn him into a-an omega? For them to b-breed him, like a woman?" Rising horror and anger choked Alan's voice, and his body reacted to his emotions, hands balling into fists. Color had drained from his face and now it flooded back, fists came up and he stepped toward the alpha, threat in every line of his body.

Omundson had been chosen and trained to handle difficult situations with humans, and now he stood his ground, softened his posture and put a sure hand on the father's shoulder. "As an omega, Alan. Not like a woman. Jensen's a werewolf, now." The man's gaze met his, full of dawning futile rage and sorrow, and realization of his own helplessness to defend his son. Tim allowed his grip to tighten, to gently shake the man, in reassurance and support.

"This is why turning a human against their will is against our law. Rest assured, these rogue wolves will be found, and they'll be punished. Our lawkeepers are on constant watch for members of this cult. This isn't the first time this has happened, and it won't be tolerated." He squeezed Alan's shoulder again, gently, and the man's eyes filled with tears, his posture eased, shoulders slumped under the weight of this new knowledge. "I'm just sorry Jensen was a victim this time."

One last forlorn hope made Alan ask, "How can you be sure? How do you know?"

"It's one reason we're giving Jensen a checkup," Omundson put out a hand, and spoke quietly. "Alan, I understand fully how you feel right now, and honestly, I share your need to find and punish these wolves. Please believe there are laws in place that cover these kinds of situations—not because they're frequent, but because although we've dragged our society forward from those days, there are those individuals, those groups, who cling to them, who keep and practice these beliefs. And whenever something like this happens, we are equipped and prepared to deal with it."

Alan wanted to demand more information, but truthfully, he wasn't really sure what to ask. And as he stood there, his thoughts turned to his son, and how he was going to face him, knowing what he now knew.

 

The checkup was, as Omundson had promised, simple, painless, and over quickly. He was asked to strip, and Paul did a visual examination, front and rear, head to toe. Jensen stepped on the scale, and then stood while his height was measured. Paul made a few notes, then asked some questions and made more notations in the folder, and smiled. "Okay, we're done. Get dressed and let's get you back to your dad."

His dad knew. The alpha had explained, at least part of it, Jensen could tell when he stepped back into the room. Paul left the folder with the alpha and flashed a smile at Jensen as he passed him on his way out of the room. The beta had been gentle and matter-of-fact; none of Jensen's fears had been realized. At least, so far. He made himself glance at his dad, and saw only sympathy and welcome on those familiar features. Alan held open an arm, and Jensen sat next to him and welcomed the one-armed hug, and the lack of the revulsion and disappointment he'd been half-expecting.

The alpha paged through Paul's report, nodding at what he read there. Then he closed it and set it on the coffee table and looked up at Alan and Jensen.

"Jensen's instinct to run was the right one," he said. "And though I understand he, and both of you, have taken some precautions since you met, the truth is the alphas who took him will probably be tracking him, intent on taking him back."

Alan's arm tightened briefly as he started to speak, but Omundson continued. "He was also right to avoid law enforcement as much as possible until we could step in. In some more remote areas, the law is sympathetic to the Fenris wolves' beliefs, and some officers are actually members of the pack. So you did well, Jensen." He sent an approving look Jensen's way, but the boy's eyes were lowered and he never saw it. Tim looked back to Alan, and continued.

"The Fenris wolves will, no doubt, be watching your house in case Jensen shows up there. I understand Jensen has a younger sister?"

Alarm prickled down Alan's back and he felt Jensen seem to shrink next to him. "Yes. You don't think—"

"It's a possibility. Not a very high one, but I've dispatched a pair of my men to watch your house, and shadow..."

"Mackenzie," Jensen stammered.

Omundson nodded. "Mackenzie on her way to and from school, and so on. Purely a precautionary measure," he reassured Alan.

"Meanwhile," the alpha sat back, took a breath and seemed to radiate a fresh energy. "We need to get Jensen somewhere safe, start getting him set up with a place to live, a chance to make friends and think about his future, get him enrolled in school. Summer's coming, and maybe he can get back into the habit of study before school starts in the fall."

He sat back, regarding Jensen, and asked. "Have you thought about what you want to do now, Jensen?"

Jensen shook his head. "I just always wanted to go home, to my family, my friends, my school." His voice was low, almost hesitant. He shook his head again, regret plain on his features. "It wasn't until I ran that I finally realized I couldn't ever go back."

Alan had been watching them both, and he turned to the alpha for clarification. "He can't come home?"

Omundson's expression was regretful. "They know where your family lives, Alan. It's where Jensen would be expected to go. And as I mentioned, his sister is another possible candidate for them, in case Jensen himself doesn't return." He peered at Alan, emphasizing his point. "It's not safe, not for either of your children. Actually, I'd rather hoped we could move all of you to the town I have in mind, so Jensen could have his family with him, again."

Alan blinked. That possibility had never occurred to him. And then he remembered tasks still undone. "My wife--she doesn't know about any of this, yet. She thinks I'm on a business trip."

Jensen nodded, he'd asked his dad not to tell his mom anything.

"You were pretty cryptic on the phone, and I wanted to wait until I had something concrete to tell her." He sought Jensen's gaze, to assure him, "She's going to be overjoyed to have you back, son." He shook his head, overwhelmed at the moment. "But all this—it's a lot."

He peered at Omundson. "I need to tell her, before we make any decisions."

"Well." The alpha clapped his hands together as he rose. "We need to move Jensen right away. You're welcome to come with, get a feel for the town, and call your wife from there this evening. You can start talking about what your family needs to do from that point. But it's best if we move Jensen along from here."

He beckoned to someone at the door and then turned back to Alan and Jensen. "Jensen, you may ride with me if your father isn't coming."

"I'm coming," Alan quickly informed him as he and Jensen stood up.

"Good. I'd like you both to ride with me. I can tell you a bit more about how things will proceed from here, where we're going, and answer any questions you may think of."

Alan started to speak and Tim smiled. "I'll have someone drive your car. I think this time will be more productive if we can talk together, rather than you driving alone, yes?" He waited for Alan's agreement.

"Good. We'll arrive in time for dinner. I've arranged a night's stay for you both, and tomorrow we'll start looking for your new home." He smiled directly at Jensen, who wasn't sure how to react.

The big black luxury SUV had blacked out windows so no one outside could see in. The interior was plush, with deep smooth leather seats, pile carpet underfoot, and a minibar. There was a glass partition between the driver and the passenger compartment, and the seats faced each other. The alpha and Jensen's dad sat facing front, and Jensen took the seat facing them. The alpha cracked a small bottle of mineral water and asked Jensen and his dad what they'd like to drink. Jensen took a bottle of water.

It was almost spooky how quiet the ride was, there was nearly no road noise at all, and no noise or vibration from the engine, either. Just the three of them, confined in this very comfortable, but small, space, with nothing but the sound of quiet conversation. The alpha's voice was soothing as he talked to Jensen's dad, and Dad's voice was familiar and comforting. No one was paying attention to Jensen, or demanding his attention in return, and he could feel his heartbeat slow and calm. For the first time since he'd made his getaway, he felt safe. The motion of the car was hypnotic, and he was so tired. He tucked into the corner of the seat and allowed some of his tension to ease, and as he was wondering if he would ever not be tired again, he fell asleep.

He woke at his dad's touch as they pulled into Wolverton. It looked like any other small town, neat, one and two-story businesses and stores lined sidewalks on generously wide two lane streets. Everything looked well-kept and clean, and people went about their business as the SUV drove through town. Everything looked so normal. Jensen was suspicious, but he couldn't detect any sense of wrongness or danger—Wolverton seemed to be exactly as it appeared.

The boarding house where they'd been dropped off was nice—clean fresh bedding, fluffy towels, and windows open to the evening breeze. Alan's car was parked in the lot beside the house, and their bags brought up to the room. Tim suggested they relax a bit, before meeting him and a couple of townspeople for supper at a restaurant nearby. He left a man he introduced as Lee Rumohr, a tall and solidly muscled alpha, head shaved bald and with a short-clipped salt and pepper beard and mustache, to show them around if they wanted to get out and see some of the town. Lee smiled and told them he'd be fine hanging out in the front room, gossiping with their hostess, if they chose to stay in. But he'd be there to show them to supper.

Both Alan and Jensen understood Lee was there to guard them, just in case. Though they weren't sure what from.

Tim, Paul, and Hugo didn't have long to wait in the restaurant's back room before they were joined by the mayor. "Kim. Good to see you, I'm glad you could come on such short notice."

Mayor Rhodes shook hands, and pinned Tim with an inquisitive glance. "What's going on, Omundson? Are we taking in strays, now?"

Tim smiled and nodded. "Appears as though we are," he agreed. "I'll fill you in on any questions you have unanswered after this meeting."

Rhodes nodded, realizing Omundson didn't want to start explaining, only to have to start again in a few minutes.

Still too early for supper, the place was nearly empty, and the event room was closed, except to them and the man who walked in a few minutes later, accompanied by two alphas. Tim stood and reached for a handshake. "Alpha. You didn't have to come. But I'm glad to see you." He gestured to the round table, where a couple of folders lay ready.

"Always good to see you, Tim." Pack Alpha Morgan nodded at Mayor Rhodes and took a seat, and Tim and Paul sat opposite him. "This is a bad business, of course I came. I need to see this boy and find out what happened to him. I want to get an impression of his father, and his family. We're all treading unfamiliar ground, here. I just want this to have a good conclusion for everybody."

Hugo and Morgan's two men stood around the table, some distance back, there just in case of trouble. Tim pushed one of the folders to Morgan, who opened it and started to read. A paragraph or two in, he raised his gaze to Paul.

"He's not mated?"

Paul shook his head. "There's no mating mark, I checked carefully. There's a bite mark high on his inner thigh; that's how he was turned. But he wasn't mated."

"Bastards!" Morgan tamped his genuine anger and continued to read. "They grabbed him just to turn him, to breed him." He glanced up from the folder to Paul. "Has he whelped?"

"He was really skittish, and I didn't want to push. I didn't do a thorough exam, just what you see there. But I'd guess yes."

Tim had read the report before Morgan arrived, and had a little time to live with his own anger. "They'd have turned him loose—or killed him—before now, if he hadn't," he suggested, and Morgan nodded, and his gaze fastened on Omundson.

"So, he ran?"

Tim nodded.

"How'd he get away? And why now?"

"Things we don't yet know," Tim replied. "But we'll find out."

He shifted in his seat and changed direction a bit. "We have him set up for a full physical, so we'll have a better idea of his condition and the conditions he was kept in. He looks a little thin. And he's obviously terrified of everybody, and everything."

Morgan regarded him, listening.

"I want him to meet with Sam Ferris. He's going to need counseling, and it would be good to have him assessed by a psychiatrist before suggesting how he proceeds from here."

Paul, Kim, and Morgan all agreed with him.

"I was planning, if he's up to it, to get him started catching up with schoolwork over the spring and summer—Beaver can tutor him, maybe call in some other teachers to work with him. I think it would do him good to start school in the fall. Get him into class, among other weres his age. The bastards who had him didn't see any point in continuing his education, of course, so it will do him good to get engaged again with academics. It's also important for him to be in a group of his own peers, other werewolves his age, so he can learn how to socialize. He's never had that."

Morgan agreed. "He went from human to breeder in a minute. No explanation, no preparation. How much does he even know about _being_ a werewolf?" he mused. "That's something that needs to be addressed; werewolf first, and omega as well. For that matter, he may have no idea about gender roles, other than the alphas who had him." He swiped a hand down his face. "Christ. That poor kid." He leaned to speak to one of his lieutenants. "Tahmoh, this takes priority, you hear me? Intensify the hunt for these guys. I want them found, and I don't want to wait till some other poor kid gets grabbed."

"Yes, sir." The man was already tapping his keypad.

Morgan's gaze met Kim's, and her response was firm and committed. "My office will coordinate with your operatives, and with the sheriff's department. "

Morgan and Omundson both smiled at her, briefly, but gratefully. "Every bit of cooperation and coordination will help," Omundson told her.

"I'll brief Ty tonight," Rhodes said, then glanced at Omundson. "Unless you would rather walk him through what we know yourself."

"I trust your ability," Omundson said. "If either of you needs more information, I'll be glad to provide as much as I can."

Morgan nodded again in agreement. "Keep everybody updated and informed." The Alpha turned back to Omundson. "What do we know about these particular wolves? Has..." he looked down at the folder. "Jensen. Has Jensen described them? Told us anything about them, or where they're located? Anything?"

Tim shook his head. "The boy was so nervous I wanted to get him here, and safe, before I asked him any more questions. All I had to go on was what Alan said Jensen told him—which is all in that folder."

"We need more intel."

Tim cracked a half-smile. "I think Alan's been watching too much CSI television. He bagged the clothes Jensen was wearing when he showed up. Apparently, the kid stole them off a laundry line."

Morgan looked puzzled, and Omundson continued. "Alan thought maybe 'forensics' could pull some info off the clothes. Or the kidnappers could track Jensen's scent through the clothes."

A small smile played around Kim's mouth, too. "Well, at least he was thinking," she gave Jensen's dad that much credit.

Tim's half-smile was rueful. "For all the good it will do. I'll sit down with Jensen in the next day or two. Or maybe Jim can, if Jensen's more comfortable with him, or Samantha, and see if we can coax the rest of his story out of him."

"Okay, good." Morgan glanced at his watch. "When are they supposed to get here for supper?"

"Next half hour or so," Hugo spoke up, phone in his hand. "Lee says they've not left Ms. Abbott's yet."

Morgan turned to the med tech. "Paul, I think you should stay. A roomful of alphas isn't going to make the kid feel at ease, I'm guessing."

Paul agreed that made sense.

"And see if you can get Jim down here," Morgan told Tim. "Another beta in the room will help, too. It won't hurt to go ahead and introduce them tonight."

Tim glanced at Hugo, who stepped out of the room to make the call. Morgan said, "I think that's enough people for tonight, it's getting kind of crowded already. We don't want to overwhelm the boy all at once." Omundson agreed, and Morgan asked, "What do we know about the family?"

"Very little," Tim told him. "Except—there is a younger sister. I put a couple of alphas on to watch the house, and to see the girl to school and wherever else she goes."

Morgan nodded approval. "The family hasn't moved since Jensen was taken?"

Omundson shook his head. "I got the impression they stayed in case he found his way home. Alan said Jensen called the old land line. He knew that number, but of course they'd all updated their phone plans in the time he's been gone, so he didn't know any of those numbers."

Morgan took a moment to be grateful for the family's hope, before he spoke his approval to Tim. "Good thinking, putting guards on the girl. The bastards might suspect Jensen would try to go home. And if not, they might snatch the girl as a substitute."

"Jensen said that was why he didn't go home," Tim said.

"Well, whatever he's been through the last three years, it sounds like he's developed some good instincts," Morgan said.

Hugo stepped back into the room, and spoke to Omundson. "Beaver's on his way. Should be a few minutes."

Morgan nodded his thanks, and stood. "Been sitting all afternoon," he said, stretching and walking around the room.

Two beta severs knocked and entered, given permission. They carried trays of utensils rolled in cloth napkins, glasses, and pitchers of ice water.

"Alpha?" the woman asked Tim. "Is there an expected number of people?"

"Set places for a dozen," he told both betas. "There probably won't be that many, but best to be prepared."

The servers moved in and quickly wiped down and set places at the round table and a couple of others, and quietly left the room. As they were finishing up, an older beta rapped on the door frame.

"Hey, Jim," Omundson said, shaking hands with the man, who also greeted Alpha Morgan with a deferential handshake. "So glad you could come on short notice."

"It's good to see you under any circumstances, my friend," Morgan smiled. "But I think your expertise is going to come in handy with the kid who's just turned up."

Jim Beaver didn't waste time asking questions, just listened to the quick briefing both alphas sketched for him. He got the basics of what was going on; he'd find out details later. He took a seat next to Kim, nodding a greeting. "Mayor."

"Hey, Jim. Crazy goings-on, huh?"

Before Beaver could answer, Hugo was at the door.

"Alpha," he spoke to Morgan. "They're here."

Morgan nodded, and Hugo stepped in, so Lee could usher Alan and Jensen into the room.

Tim moved forward to greet Alan with a handshake. "Alan, Jensen, this is Pack Alpha Jeffrey Dean Morgan. He's the leader of the Ghost River Pack, the territory from the Dakotas and Nebraska to the Oregon and Washington coast."

Alan's eyes widened a bit. "That's a lot of ground to cover."

Morgan smiled. "That's why I have Tim and three other alphas to help keep an eye on things. I'm glad to meet you both."

Jensen kept his body turned a quarter away, and his gaze didn't come up to meet Morgan's. Jeff shook hands with Alan, but didn't offer a handshake to Jensen. "This is Woverton's mayor, Kim Rhodes."

"Mayor," Alan said, as Kim shook his hand. Jensen gave a small nod, but didn't meet the mayor's gaze, either.

"And this is Jim Beaver," Morgan introduced the last member of their party.

Jim reached for Alan's hand, and gave Jensen an assessing look. Jensen wouldn't look up, but Jim included him when he said, "Pleased to meet you both."

"Jim's the principal of our local high school. I thought it might be nice for both of you to meet him."

Alan managed a smile.

"Well, come, everybody, have a seat," Morgan said, gesturing to the round table. "There's a full menu, but I recommend the steak. Aubry has a secret rub that's excellent."

The meal went relatively well. There was some quiet discussion between Morgan, Omundson and Rhodes. Beaver sat next to Alan, with Jensen on his dad's other side, and Beaver talked a little about the high school, and asked Jensen what his interests were. Jensen flickered a somewhat alarmed gaze up at the principal, but bit his lip rather than respond. Alan mentioned the things that his son had shown an interest in before his abduction, doing what he could to keep the conversation alive. Jensen managed to nod or shake his head to a few direct questions, and he seemed to relax by a fraction, as Beaver continued to appear calm and encouraging.

The meeting broke up after dessert. Hugo stepped forward to escort the Ackles back to their B&B, and Alan said their good nights. Jensen seemed to relax once they were in their room with the door shut. He climbed under the covers and was asleep in minutes. Alan watched him sleep, and wished his wife was there to see their son, safe.

But he couldn't help dreading the revelation that had to come before Jensen could be reunited with his mom. Alan settled into his own bed, but it was a while before sleep came for him.


	2. Chapter 2

   

 

Jensen didn't want to meet with Dr. Ferris. He had met quite enough new people in the last two days, and he was still jumpy and nervous from trying to figure out how to behave. His mom's etiquette training since his childhood somehow didn't seem equal to meeting unfamiliar werewolves. There were nuances he felt, was aware of, could _smell_ —and how weird was that?—that he had no idea either what they meant or how he was supposed to behave in response. He was exhausted, and his deepest desire at the moment was to curl up in his comfy bed with the smooth clean sheets and the ceiling fan turning lazily overhead, and just be.

But Dad was insisting, and Jensen knew Mayor Rhodes and Tim—and probably Alpha Morgan, too—were pressuring him, and Jensen had caused Dad enough problems already. So he dressed—he was still getting used to wearing clothes again, and they  _itched_ —and tried to put on his game face, and walked the few blocks to the psychiatrist's office, accompanied by Hugo Ateo, an alpha Omundson had assigned to the Ackles as another guard. Hugo was slightly shorter than Lee, with dark hair cut close on the sides, dark brown eyes, and a well-groomed mustache and goatee. Jensen felt...safe with both of their guards.

Dr. Ferris was his mom's age, attractive, confident, and assured. She crossed the room to meet him when he knocked at the open door, smiled in welcome and reached to shake his hand. He fumbled it, no one had offered to shake his hand in a very long time. But her grip was warm and sure, his hand in both of hers for just a moment and his apprehension about this appointment eased, just a little.

"Welcome, Jensen. I've heard a bit about you, and I'm looking forward to us getting to know each other better."

He didn't answer, and she gestured to a sitting area to one side of her desk. "Sit anywhere you like. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Water?" He chose a chair where he could see both door and window, and felt a little less anxious for that.

She handed him a bottle from the minifridge, and took the chair opposite his.

"I'm going to ask you some questions," she began. "And I hope you'll be honest with me. If you feel you can't—or really don't want to—answer a question, please just tell me that, rather than lie, or making something up." She sought his eyes with her gaze, insistent. "Can you do that?"

His words caught in his throat and he took a sip of water. "I'll try," he told her.

"Good." She had a very pretty smile, and Jensen relaxed a bit more, somehow happy he could earn her smile.

The conversation was a minefield, she knew, and she trod very lightly. There were things they needed to know, to help the hunt for the Fenris pack alphas, and things they needed to know if they were going to help Jensen as best they could. But the kid had been through a lot, and getting those things out in the open was a delicate job, and it wasn't all going to happen today. Samantha was gentle and firm as required to get the boy to open up.

"Why don't we start with the day you were taken," she suggested. "Can you tell me what you remember about that?"

There was a long hesitation, and Sam almost repeated the question when Jensen spoke. "It was pizza night," he began. His eyes were aimed at the wall below the window, but lost focus as he remembered. "And it was my turn to pick the toppings. Dad always called Mom and told her what toppings to get, and she'd bring the pizza on her way home from work. It was Mack's turn the week before, so I got to pick this time. Mack had gone to a friend's house after school, so I was walking home by myself, thinking about what I wanted on the pizza when I got grabbed from behind. I yelled, and tried to struggle, but they put a bag over my head and I heard a door roll back. They threw me belly down on the floor of a van, yanked my hands behind me and tied them together. I was rolling and kicking, and they tied my ankles, too. I kept yelling, and somebody grabbed the edge of the bag, pulled it up enough to cram a rag in my mouth. And then they left me like that, rolled the door shut. I heard doors slam, and the van took off."

Samantha said nothing, just waiting for him to go on.

"I kind of wiggled around, yanking at the zip tie on my wrists, but I couldn't get enough leverage to break it. I tried to listen to them talking up front, but I couldn't make out the words over the road noise and the engine."

He stopped, staring into the past. "I was so scared," he whispered.

"Of course," Sam said, sympathetic, but encouraging him to go on.

They had driven for a while, Jensen said. It probably wasn't as long as it felt, but it had seemed like hours. And then the van pulled over and stopped, and the door rolled open. Both men had gotten in and closed the door again. "All right now, pretty," one of them had said, and then they started pulling Jensen's clothes off. He yelled into his gag and struggled as hard as he could, but tied the way he was, and against two of them, he had no chance.

They pulled his jeans down, and his briefs, leaving them tangled around his ankles, and suddenly there was a hot, wet mouth licking at his dick. He had wondered and imagined what blow jobs would feel like, but he didn't want to find out here, not this way, not with a couple of crazy strangers. He kept trying to wriggle away, but the second man pinned his shoulders and growled at him to be still, while the first licked and sucked at his dick and his balls—and his hole.

Jensen stopped, overwhelmed by sense memories. He took a gulp of water and dashed the tears he'd not noticed until now off his face, gusting out a sigh that edged on a sob. He shook his head.

Samantha's voice, when she spoke, was quiet, and surprising. Because there was no overt sympathy, only acceptance. And an instruction to continue, which Jensen was able to obey.

"He—he swallowed my dick. And stuck two fingers up my ass at the same time. I—didn't know what I was feeling, but he kept moving those fingers while he sucked at me, and it started not to hurt so much. And then he hit something inside me that—well, it felt weird, but not bad. Kind of good. And he kept on sucking until I was ready to blow, but then he pulled off before I could, and then he _bit me_ , on the thigh, right up near my groin. It hurt like hell, and scared me again, but then he hit that spot inside again with his fingers before he yanked them out, cut the tie off my ankles, pushed my legs up against my chest and stuck his dick in me."

He took another gulp of water. "It hurt. It hurt a lot. But I was right on the edge, and he grabbed my dick and jerked it, and I came all over the place. And a minute later, his dick started swelling up about three times its size—and that hurt. He kept fucking me though, for what felt like an hour, and then his body jerked, and I felt warm inside, and I knew he was coming. He collapsed on top of me. He was so heavy I couldn't breathe, but he just laid there, and I thought I was dying. I—wanted to die."

He glanced up at her for the first time, quick contact and away again. "I was fourteen years old. I'd never even made out with anybody, never even been kissed. And I had a bag over my head, a gag in my mouth, lying on my tied hands on the bare metal floor of some van, and I had some stranger's dick shoved in my ass. I hadn't even seen his face." He sat forward in his chair, elbows propped on his knees, water bottle dangling from one hand. "I wanted to die. I wanted to die a lot, the next few years."

He wiped a hand across his face, and took a slow, deep breath. When he continued, his voice was almost a monotone. "He stayed in me, his huge dick pouring come into my ass while he laid on top of me like he was dead, or unconscious. I wished I could be either one, right then. The other guy got up, got out and closed the door, got into the driver's seat, cranked the engine, and pulled back on the road. We drove for...I don't know how long: half-hour, hour? No way of knowing. But the guy on top of me eventually woke up, and started petting me, calling me pretty, and saying how happy I'd made him, how happy we all were going to be. I'm busy wondering who "all" of them were when he pulls out, and, _god_ , it hurt. Come just gushed out of me, it made a puddle under my ass. It slowed, after that first gush, but it kept trickling and sliding, and I couldn't get up. I wanted to get clean, it was all I was feeling right then, I needed a shower. And a good case of amnesia. This hadn't happened, not to me. I was just an ordinary kid, how did stuff like this happen?"

He blew out a gusty sigh and took another gulp of water. "The van slowed, and pulled over again. The door rolled open and the second guy climbed in. He didn't say a word, just grabbed me by the hips and flipped me over where I laid, pulling me up on my knees with my face in the bag on the metal floor. And then he just rammed into me, and fucked like a jackhammer. I guess I passed out and when I came to I was on my side, the guy spooned up behind me, his dick still up my ass, still pulsing come into me.

The motor started. The first guy had left while I'd been out, and we were moving again. The guy behind me started _petting_ me, stroking his hand along my arm, my back. He was... _crooning_ about how pretty I was, about pups and pack and I would have passed out again, but he twisted my nipple, pulled at it, and then reached over and did the other one. It hurt, and I tried to pull away from him, and he said, 'That's okay, pretty. You'll get to like it when you have pups tugging on them all the time.' Like that didn't sound ominous at all. He ran his palm down my belly past my dick, and fingered the bite. 'Not long now,' he said. 'And you'll be ours. Our pretty omega. Forever.'"

Jensen stopped talking, and Samantha looked at the clock. They'd gone over the time she allotted her patients, but she believed Jensen had needed to tell his story. She let the silence be while she made a few notes, and then spoke.

"What were their names, Jensen?"

"The alphas were Ed and Roy," he told her. "There were three betas, Nicole, Rachelle, and Gary." He paused a bit. "I never learned anybody else's name."

"Last names?"

He shook his head. "I never heard any, if they had one."

"This is good," she told him. "This gives us a place to start, tracking these weres down. Thank you." She made a couple of notes before turning back to Jensen. "Now. I need to ask a couple of physical questions, and then I think we're done for the day, okay?"

He looked tired, but he nodded.

"When was your last heat?"

He slanted a quick glance at her under his brows, but replied. "Just before I ran. Ended...three or four days ago."

"How many times were you bred this heat?"

His lips firmed in a grim straight line. "None." He didn't elaborate, and she was aware there was a story there.

"Okay, I'm going to send you to the clinic for a full exam—"

"I just had a checkup," he started to complain.

"I'm aware. That was just a cursory check for any major injuries or problems. I need you to have a full physical to assess your complete health. Then we'll get you on heat suppressants, if you want them—"

"There are drugs that can prevent heats?" He grasped at the idea like it was completely new to him.

"Yes, of course," she told him. "Most omegas use them. You have to go off them and allow yourself a heat every once in a while—after three suppressed heats, usually—in order to stay healthy. But it's much easier to get on with life without the bother of heats, especially if you're not mated, or if you're not ready for children."

"Yes, please. I'd like that," his eagerness was apparent.

"And birth control, too?"

He nodded, even more eagerly. "Yes, please!"

"Then you need to have your physical done so we can write the appropriate prescriptions for you. Okay?" she held out the note with the date and time of the appointment, and he took it, willingly.

"Sure," he said. "Thanks."

"Okay, good. And I think we need to meet again next week."

He didn't look so enthusiastic about that, but they had a lot of work to do. She handed him another note, with their next scheduled appointment. He accepted it, and she stood, offered a handshake, which he took. "I'll see you next week, Jensen. And if anything comes up you need to talk about, my number is on the paper, there."

"Thanks, Dr. Ferris." He folded the papers together and tucked them into a jacket pocket before he turned and left her office.

She hoped they would get to the point where he could call her Sam.

~

While Jensen was with the psychiatrist, Alan took advantage of the opportunity to call home. It was really good to hear Donna's voice, he missed her and Mack after just these few days. He asked about her work, and spoke to Mack about school. He felt guilty for not sharing the good news that Jensen was found, that he was safe. But there was no way he could share that their son was now a werewolf, let alone the circumstances of his abduction and captivity, not over the phone. He made his excuses for his extended time away from home, and promised to call if he was going to be longer than another couple of days. He missed his girls. But Jensen needed him. Their son had been alone and without support long enough, and since he couldn't take him home, it was Alan's job to support him now, in finding his place in this new community and his new circumstances.

Alan had met with a realtor and viewed a couple of houses. He tried to imagine his family living here, being practically the only humans in a town populated by werewolves. Far from being the monsters the stories of his childhood told about, everyone he'd met here in Wolverton had been courteous and pleasant and helpful. He could forget from moment to moment that they weren't just ordinary people. But he still wasn't sure how he felt about Mack in a school with classmates that were all werewolves. And—what about dating? He was having difficulty with all of this, and he was not expecting Donna to have any easier a time adjusting to the situation. He expected her to be overjoyed that Jensen had been found, to be able to see him, hold him in her arms, and note how tall he had grown, how he had matured since he'd been gone. But moving to, living in a werewolf town? He had a distinct lack of positive expectation about how things were likely to go when she heard all the news.

He pulled away from that line of thought, searching for something less speculative, more factual—and more positive. He and Jensen had met briefly after dinner the other night with Jim Beaver, the principal of the local high school. He seemed very easygoing, affable. After a few minutes around Mr. Beaver Jensen had seemed more settled, and less nervous and on edge than he appeared to feel around Omundson and the other alphas they had met that night. Mr. Beaver had scheduled an appointment tomorrow at his home, to discuss Jensen's academic level. The school wanted Jensen to take some assessment tests to gauge what grade would be better for him to start back to school. Beaver was encouraging about Jensen moving up through the grades he had missed as he mastered the curriculum for each grade. There was nearly a month left in the present school year, and Jim had encouraged Jensen to work hard starting this week and through the summer. He felt sure Jensen would make up at least a grade or two before school started in the fall.

Beaver was a fatherly sort, in his fifties, with twinkling blue eyes, a dry sense of humor and a welcome warmth. Behind it all, though, Alan sensed a great deal of strength. Of course, anybody in charge of a school full of teenagers would have to have a backbone. Unlike with Morgan and Omundson, who Jensen could hardly look at, he seemed a lot more comfortable with Beaver, and Alan felt good about that. It was disturbing to see his once bright, confident boy refusing to look anybody in the eye, or engage in conversation. Alan hoped Beaver could help with that.

And the psychiatrist, too. Dr. Ferris had a no nonsense manner, but Alan could sense a core of genuine care for the welfare of her patients, and a special interest in Jensen. Those two on his side would go a long way toward helping Jensen find his confidence again, Alan thought. Well, he hoped so, anyway.

 

Principal Beaver watched as five or six of his male alpha seniors crowded up on three beta girls, trying to impress them. The girls didn't look like they were very impressed, trying to ease away, but the alpha boys surrounded them, reaching to touch a strand of hair, a sleeve, trail a knuckle down a cheek. When a hand landed on the curve of a bottom and the girl turned, smacked the hand away and snarled at the alpha, Beaver was in motion toward them to prevent a possible escalation. He didn't condone this type of behavior in his school.

Before he could reach the group, though, a couple more boys walked up, Chad Michael Murray, another alpha, and the Padalecki boy. Jared was a big kid, bigger than a lot of alphas, even though he was a beta, and though Jim knew he'd rather talk his way out of an unpleasant situation, Jim had seen him hold his own in a few scuffles. He stopped and waited to see how this would play out.

Chad and Jared eased in between the alphas and the girls, talking animatedly about sports, arguing with each other whose team was best, mock sparring when they disagreed. After a minute or two, the other boys joined in, and then Jared and Chad started walking toward the lap lanes around the football field, and the rest of the boys followed. Jared cast a quick look and a nod over his shoulder at the girls, and kept walking away.

The girls quickly moved in the other direction, and Jim smiled to himself and made a note to speak to Jared when he got a chance.

 

At least Dr. Speight wasn't an alpha. Jensen had been scared of having an alpha's hands on him, of being alone in the exam room with an alpha. He had no defense against alphas, no way to say no, or stop, or just—wait a minute, please. But Dr. Speight was a beta, straightforward and no-nonsense. He was solidly built, but short, and Jensen supposed his bossy attitude was an attempt to compensate for the lack of height. At the doctor's instruction, Jensen stripped and climbed up on the exam table. Dr. Speight checked his mouth, his ears, shone the penlight in each eye for a second or two, felt his neck, chest, pressed the bell of the stethoscope to his back and had him take a couple of deep breaths and hold it. The nurse had taken his height, weight and blood pressure, and made notes in his file—the one begun, Jensen guessed, by the med tech Paul at Jensen's quick checkup at the motel. Speight added notes as he moved from checkpoint to checkpoint.

"Lie back." Jensen didn't want to, but he did, and the doctor pressed with his fingertips across his chest, feeling around his nipples, down along his ribs to his abdomen, pressing harder there, and down to his groin, where he examined Jensen's penis, rolling the foreskin back, and rolling each testicle, feeling its contours with his fingertips.

"Slide down to the edge of the table." It took a minute for Jensen to follow the instruction, and the doctor pulled the retractable stirrups from the end of the table, raised Jensen's legs one after the other and settled his feet in the cups.

Jensen had had medical exams before—his last to make sure he was fit for school sports. But he had never been in this exposed, embarrassing, and vulnerable position before. Jensen watched as the doctor pulled on surgical gloves. The sudden but gentle intrusion of fingers made him gasp and flinch, and the doctor said, "Relax," as the fingers probed and stroked inside him. He tried to follow that instruction, but when he heard a metallic ratchet before the cold metal instrument touched his perineum, Jensen jerked at the sensation, and Speight put a palm on his belly.

"Hold on, partner. This might be a little uncomfortable but it shouldn’t hurt. Take some deep breaths for me, in through the nose, out through the mouth." Jensen tried to breathe, and the doc nodded approval. "Yeah, like that. Easy now, we’ll have this done in a jiffy." Speight took another look at his patient. He was pale, he could feel the boy quivering. He laid the speculum down, and patted the kid's leg. "Do you need another minute?”

"Ye-esss! Please!" Jensen's body began to shake in fear as memory and sensation began to take over. He was using every bit of strength to hold himself still and in place, but he couldn't control the shaking, and Speight hesitated. He stripped off the gloves, removed Jensen's feet from the stirrups and pulled an extension from the end of the table to rest them on. He moved up beside Jensen and cupped a hand under the boy's nape.

"Sit up for me a minute," he said, and Jensen did.

Dr. Speight reached for a folded sheet, partially unfolded it and draped it around Jensen's shoulders. "Better?"

Jensen nodded, trying to get his breathing under control. "Easy," Speight said. "Want some water?"

He nodded again, and the doctor filled a paper cup with water from the cooler and handed it to him, making sure he had hold of it. Jensen sipped at it, it didn't take him long to finish it, and Speight took the empty cup and tossed it in the trash.

"What's up, kiddo?" he wanted to know.

"What—" Jensen swallowed, took a breath. "What were you going to do—with that?" he cut his eyes to where the metal instrument lay on the side table, and understanding began to dawn for the doctor.

"Jensen, have you ever had a physical exam before?"

"Yeah," Jensen said. "But, not since—"

"Not since you were turned? Is that it? You've never had an omecology exam?"

When Jensen shook his head no, Speight said, "Well, let's do this: what if I talk you through the exam now, before I actually examine you, tell you everything I'm going to do. Will that help?"

Jensen nodded, relief mingling with reluctance now. "I think so. Thanks."

"Okay, then."

Fifteen minutes later the doctor said, "Okay, we're done. Good job, kiddo. You can sit up." He made a few more notes in the file, and smiled at Jensen. "Get dressed, and I'll meet you in my office. Turn left and go down to the end of the hall, okay?"

Jensen nodded, and Dr. Speight patted him on the shoulder and left the room.

Jensen dressed, and found Speight's office. The doctor waved him to a chair, and asked him to close the door. He leaned back in his chair, easing his back, his arms up, hands linked behind his head. "Well, kiddo, you're healthy as a horse. You've gained a little weight since your last weight check, that's good. And all things considered, I don't think there are any problems for you to worry about. Did you have any questions?"

This was the whole point of this visit. Jensen asked, "Dr. Ferris said you could prescribe heat suppressants for me," he said. "And, birth control?"

Speight brought his arms down and leaned forward to glance at Jensen's file again. "We can do that, for sure. But before I write your scrips, can I ask you a couple of questions?" Jensen agreed, a little apprehensive.

"You told Dr. Ferris you'd had four heats in the three years since you were turned?" Jensen nodded. "And you had a litter for every one of those heats, except the last one?"

"That's right."

"No problems with any of the births?"

A negative headshake.

"Did you have any problems feeding the pups?"

An odd expression crossed the boy's features, but it was gone as soon as it was seen. He shook his head again. "No."

"Did you go into heat immediately after you were bitten?"

"I didn't know what it was," Jensen said. "I just thought it was reaction to being bitten."

"You weren't mated."

He shook his head. "I didn't know that." His voice hitched, almost a half-sob. "I didn't know anything."

Speight's face twisted in sympathy, but he quickly schooled his features back to reserved interest.

"And your last heat ended...?"

"Just over a week ago."

Speight made another note, and laid the pen down. "Okay, then. I don't see any reason why we can't get you started on suppressants." He noted the quick expression of relief and the kid's body relaxing as he took a deep breath. "We do need to go over some things about the suppressants. They're in pill form, you take them every day. If you decide to give yourself a heat, you'll be able to stop the pills and your heat will start within a week."

Speight continued. "As for birth control, there are pills for that, too, and there's also the implant. It's a time-release capsule, lasts for six months. We usually implant it under the skin of the left forearm" he indicated on his own arm. "Doesn't get in the way there." Jensen was listening closely. "The implant is designed to work for six months. It needs to be removed if you decide you want pups, and the implant is more systemic than the pills. It takes weeks, sometimes, for the contraceptive to clear your system."

"No pups," Jensen was adamant, speaking before Speight had finished his sentence.

"Well, you have to allow yourself a heat for about every three or four blocked heats, but the implant will prevent pregnancy, even if you go into heat."

If Speight interpreted that expression correctly, Jensen had never found his heats pleasant at all, but the doctor continued without comment. "So, we plan ahead and give you a heat when you can schedule some time for it out of your job, or school, or whatever. So, do you want to go with pills for both, or do you think you want the implant?"

The kid nodded, decisively. "Yeah, the implant. Yes, please."

"Okay, then." The doctor pulled some sort of list from a desk drawer. "I'm going to order an implant for you. It should be in early next week. Let's make an appointment for...Tuesday?" He checked with a glance for confirmation, and when Jensen agreed, he scribbled on an appointment pad. "Two o'clock okay?" At Jensen's nod, he added the time, pulled the sheet from the pad and held it out. "We'll inject the implant, and I'll have a script for the suppressants for you then."

Jensen took the paper, and the doctor saw the quick inhale and the exhale of relief when he had it in his hand. His lips relaxed, almost into a smile, as he thanked the doctor, and left the office.

Jensen couldn't remember feeling this...positive, almost happy, in a very long time. He didn't dare quite believe in it, he wouldn't, until he had the implant and the pills were in his hands. But for the first time in years, his life seemed to have some hope in it, and even though he was still filled with caution and doubt, he wanted to believe in that hope.

Outside, Hugo was waiting, and Jensen was suddenly aware he was relieved and glad to see him, rather than hesitant and reluctant. It's not that Hugo was a friend—well, he was coming to seem that way, as much time as he and Lee spent with Jensen and his dad. Jensen had gotten used to them being around, and he realized he felt—safe, protected, with them near. He greeted Hugo with his hand in his pocket, still touching the paper Speight had given him, and nearly smiled. Life was suddenly less threatening and horrible than it had been a mere week ago.

He fell into step with Hugo as they headed to the B&B to meet up with Jensen's dad.

 

Jensen and Alan had finished lunch at Ms. Abbott's table, and were on their way out to meet Principal Beaver at his house. They were met on the front steps by Mayor Rhodes, tall and slim in her business clothes, some grey in her short, no-nonsense brown hair, and bright brown eyes. A man in sheriff's uniform was with her. She smiled and put a hand out to Alan. "Hi, Mr. Ackles, Jensen, good to see you both again. Let me introduce you to our town sheriff, Ty Olsson."

Alpha, Jensen recognized, tensing in reaction. But the sheriff touched the brim of his hat and smiled at Jensen and his dad, blue eyes friendly, a smile on his face.

"Pleased to meet you," Olsson said, shaking hands with Alan. He included Jensen with a nod. "I hope you're enjoying our town, and we'd be glad to welcome you as permanent residents, if you decide to stay."

"That's still up for debate," Alan said. "But we do like it here."

"Well, I'm on call anytime, if I can be of help." He turned to the Mayor. "I need to get over to the courthouse," he said, before turning back to the Ackles. "Glad to meet you both," and a nod, and he was headed down the sidewalk.

"Ty's a good man," Mayor Rhodes said. "We're lucky to have him." She smiled, and changed the subject. "I understand you and your family are planning to settle here in Wolverton?"

Alan returned the smile. "Yes. Alpha Morgan and Tim Omundson think it will be good for Jensen here. Good school, nice people. And, safe, you know."

She nodded. "Yes, I do know." She gave Jensen a direct look, but didn't hold it long. She could feel his unease. "I'm sorry for your trouble, Jensen. Hopefully we can make it up to you here." Jensen's glance flickered up before it fell again, and he gave a slight nod at her words.

She turned back to Alan. "If there's anything I or my office can do to help you and your family settle in, please let us know." Alan thanked her, and she asked, "Are you house hunting right now?"

Alan brightened at the subject. "Yes, I've seen some nice places. I'm going to have to wait to make a definite decision until my wife and daughter get here—they'll have a lot to say about the house we choose." His smile broadened, and she returned it with a chuckle.

"I understand. Wise man. Well, I won't keep you. I just wanted to welcome you and offer help if there's anything we can do to help you settle in."

"Thank you, Mayor Rhodes. We appreciate it." She nodded, and left. Alan turned to put an arm around Jensen's shoulders. "Nice people here, huh, kid?"

Jensen allowed a small smile to touch his face.

"Okay, off to the principal's house," Alan said, sweeping Jensen along. "You ready to go back to school?"

Jensen didn't answer yes or no, but he did say, "I've missed it." Alan took that as a yes.

 

Principal Beaver had suggested meeting at his house, rather than at school. He suspected Jensen wasn't yet ready for crowds, let alone a high-energy mass of teenaged wolves and the noise they generated as they moved through the halls. So Alan and Jensen were ushered into an older two-story house, painted white, with a wide front porch that wrapped around one side, with a porch swing hung where the porch curved, and rocking chairs grouped along its length for comfortable conversation.

Inside were off-white walls with family photos and a few landscape oils on the walls, a framed poster of Ansel Adams' Half Dome on the stairwell wall, polished wood floors cushioned here and there with rugs in warm, deep colors. Couches and chairs were comfortably upholstered and again, arranged in comfortable conversation groups. Table surfaces gleamed under lamps, with short stacks of books and a few magazines. The coffee table held a large blown glass bowl, and oversized books on art, sculpture, and sports.

Simple curtains hung at the open windows, stirring in the slight breeze. Both Alan and Jensen felt immediately at home.

"Come this way," Beaver said, leading the way into his office. Jensen's gaze followed the floor to ceiling bookshelves across the width of the whole wall, before he settled in one of the armchairs at the principal's gesture. Alan took the other, and Beaver the end of the leather couch with the worn cushion. Someone obviously sat there frequently, and there were a couple of books with bookmarks sticking from between their pages under the lamp on the end table.

"Thank you for coming," Beaver said. "Can I get you anything? Something to drink? I think I've got some snickerdoodles in the kitchen. My housekeeper Mara spoils me," he grinned. "But I'll share."

Alan smiled, but shook his head. Beaver turned to the boy. "Jensen?"

The kid looked surprised to be asked, and cleared his throat before speaking. "Maybe later," he said, with a faint smile.

Beaver nodded, and launched into discussing Jensen's last grade level, what his interests were, his strong subjects, the ones he enjoyed—not necessarily the same—his weak ones and the ones he disliked. He asked what sports and activities Jensen had been involved in at his last school. He listened as Jensen opened up a little to talk about himself, and reached for a pad and pen to jot down a few notes. Looking at him now, Jim had trouble picturing Jensen as aggressive enough to have played football. Omegas usually weren't welcome in team sports—too much rough contact, though this kid looked pretty tough. Still, team coaches saw omegas as a liability on the field or basketball court. But there were other events where individuals competed alone, and those might appeal to the boy.

"Well," he peered at Jensen over the reading glasses he'd put on to write. "We have a good school, in my opinion, with a fairly advanced and broad curriculum. I think you'll fit right in," he smiled. "We have our troublemakers—can't have a bunch of teenagers all in one place without a little trouble now and then." He smiled, and Alan did, too.

"What we need to do, first of all, is have you fill out a couple of tests, academic placement, logic, math, science, etc., and also a survey on your interests, your strengths, and areas where you might need extra work, or a little help." He glanced at Alan and then at Jensen. "Sound good?"

Father and son nodded, and Beaver stood and crossed to his desk. "I have some time on Thursday," he told them, and turned to Jensen. "Are you doing anything about two o'clock this Thursday?"

Jensen shrugged, and exchanged a look with his dad. "Um. Not that I know of?"

Beaver nodded. "Okay then, we'll need about two hours of your time, and I'll go ahead and set up your testing for then. Once we know where you are in your subjects, I can assign some course work so you can start to make up some of the classes you've missed. You're welcome to work here in the evenings, or stop by with any questions you have on your subjects. You think that's going to work?"

"That's more than generous of you," Alan said.

"Teaching's my job. Well, I don't do a lot of direct teaching any more," Beaver told them. "It might be fun to get my hand in, again. Jensen?"

Jensen managed to meet the principal's gaze. "Yes sir. Thank you."

Beaver smiled, and asked again if anybody wanted snickerdoodles. When nobody took him up on his offer, he walked them to the door. "See you Thursday, Jensen."

"Thanks, Mr. Beaver. See you Thursday," Jensen mustered a smile before he and his dad left.

Alan and Jensen were still staying at Ms. Abbott's bed and boarding house. It was clean, and though there were a few other guests, it was quiet, and the food was very good. Either Lee or Hugo was always around, and went along with them whenever they went out.

The Ackles looked at several houses, though none of them seemed quite right for their family. Spending time with Hugo and Lee, they learned more about the town and its history. The alphas were friendly and easy going, ready to answer questions and volunteer information about the town and the local customs. It was easy to talk them into telling stories about some of the local eccentrics. Wolverton was beginning to seem like any other small town. It took Alan by surprise, sometimes, when he remembered that the town was almost exclusively inhabited by werewolves.

 

Having spent the morning looking at three of the houses for sale in the area, Alan and Jensen both had the afternoon free and were strolling down Wolverton’s main street, comparing the pros and cons of each home. Alan asked him which one he could most easily see himself living in and had to laugh when Jensen pointed out that he’d have to wait and see, that Mac would want first dibs on which bedroom was hers. _Then_ Jensen could settle in. A small gaggle of four or five teenaged girls passed them on the sidewalk, going the opposite direction. A couple of them eyed Jensen critically and then giggled once they had walked past. Jensen blushed, unsure what that was about, but Alan was suddenly conscious of the boy's thrift store attire. Jensen looked ruefully down at his worn thin Metallica t-shirt as he chewed on his bottom lip nervously.

Alan’s face took on a look of determined resolve as he watched his son. “Hmm…Maybe the ladies have a point. We need to up your game, son.”

“It’s okay dad. Seriously.”

“No, it’s really not. And here’s words I’d never thought I’d hear coming out of my mouth, but let’s go shopping."

 

Jensen was hesitant about trying on clothes, so Alan joined him in shopping. A surprisingly fun couple of hours later Alan and Jensen were making their way back to Ms. Abbott's with several bags of new clothing.

“I think you should have got that flamingo t-shirt, pop.” Jensen laughed as they entered the front door of the house.

“Don't be ridiculous son, that was a completely different pink than the shorts I was trying on. I have my standards.” Alan huffed dramatically. “And besides, what about you? You left a perfectly good polka dot polo on the shelf.” Jensen snorted. The whole outing had been absurdly fun with his dad in fine form, trying on outrageous fashion choices before they both settled on some great finds. It gave Jensen a warm, confident feeling wearing clothes he felt comfortable in again. And most of them didn’t even itch. "Give me those," Alan reached for Jensen's bags. "I'm going to see if I can borrow Ms. Abbott's washer and run these things through before we wear them." Jensen looked a question at his dad.

"Remember the great jeans debacle?" Oh, yes. A brand new pair of board-stiff indigo jeans had left Jensen chafed in tender places and breaking out from the indigo dye and sizing. He handed the bags over to his dad without another word.

 

On Tuesday, Jensen went by Dr. Speight's office to get his contraceptive implant, and to pick up his prescription for heat suppressants. The implant stung going in, and ached and itched a little for a few days under the skin of his forearm, several inches below his elbow. Rather than being a nuisance, it kept him aware of its presence and purpose, and made him smile to himself. After a few days, it didn't bother him any more. But he still, in odd moments, would stroke a thumb or a fingertip over the lump under his skin, and smile.

He started on the suppressants, with Dr. Speight's advice in mind. "If you have any weird symptoms, or even just feel a little 'off'," the doctor said. "Call me, or come by. Hormones can do strange and funky things to the body, sometimes. I can increase or lower the dosage on the pills, or even switch brands. Different brands sometimes cause different reactions for some people." At Jensen's expression of concern, Speight patted Jensen on the shoulder. "Chances are these are going to work just fine for you. I'm just saying, if they don't, we'll find something that does, okay?" He smiled reassuringly, and Jensen nodded in relief.

 

Jim was on his way home early on Thursday to meet Jensen. But Jared Padalecki stood in his office doorway, an expression of concern on his face, asking for a few minutes of his time.

"Come on in, boy," Jim said, waving Jared to a chair. He picked up his desk phone and speed dialed his house. When Mara answered, he reminded her that Jensen was due to come by at 2:00, probably accompanied either by his dad or an alpha guard. Jim was going to be a bit delayed, so would she ask them in, offer them refreshments along with his apologies, and tell them he'd be there as soon as he could? She said of course, and he hung up, sat down, and turned his attention to the Padalecki kid. "What's up?"

Alpha seniors were always pretty full of themselves, they didn't mind shoving each other, and younger betas around, bullying a little to get their way. They tended to group together, project a united front against younger students, especially betas and omegas. It's the way things had always been, and while the other students weren't especially pleased about the circumstance, they all knew the boundaries of teasing and harassment, and the seniors had always walked pretty close to that line.

"Sir," Padalecki wanted to know. "You know about the Fenris pack, right?" Of course, everybody knew about those primitive, narrow-minded, conservative jackasses. But Jim just nodded, and Jared went on. "I don't know if you were aware, but they have a youth group, the Sons of Fenris. They're organized, and the pack subsidizes and supports their actions." He glanced down, and back up at Beaver from under the shaggy forelock shading his brow. "Their whole purpose is to recruit members for Fenris pack," he said, with conviction. "And they're here on campus. They're making friends with the seniors, and pushing them to be nastier and meaner to the rest of the students." His voice held a note of frustration. "They make it sound exciting, like alphas are like...little kings, or something, like they have a right to anything they want, whether it belongs to somebody else...or, _is_ somebody else." He looked at Jim with an expectation for a solution, a way to stop this behavior. Jim sighed.

"Are you sure, Jared? It's not just the seniors pushing their boundaries a little?"

"I've seen the symbols." Jared asked with a glance, and at Beaver's nod he took a pen and paper from the desk and sketched quick examples of some of the symbols, then pushed the paper toward the principal so he could see. "They draw them on lockers, walls, on notebooks—even in textbooks. Sharpied on skin, carved into desktops. They..." his gaze fell as he hesitated, and then rose to meet the principal's. "Those alphas scare me, and I'm a big guy. I'm no alpha, but I'm not a teeny beta girl, either. These guys are mean, and they're a bad influence on some of the alpha seniors—they're starting to act just like the Sons—they don't care who they hurt, they just take what they want."

"Have they approached you, Jared?"

The kid shook his head. "No, they're not interested in a beta. But my friend Chad Murray," he looked to the principal to make sure he knew Chad, and Beaver nodded. Oh yes, he knew Chad well. Jared went on. "He's an alpha, and he's had some interest from a couple of the Sons, promising him stuff, like, more prestige, girls and omegas at his beck and call, suggesting if he sees another kid with something he wants, maybe he should just take it as his alpha right."

He waited while Jim thought his words over, but finally, he asked, "Is there anything we can do?"

"I'm sure there is. Let me look into it, talk to the sheriff and Mayor Rhodes," he told the kid. "Maybe Alpha Omundson and some other people, and we'll decide how best to proceed." Jim stood, and Jared followed his prompt and stood, too. Jim clasped Jared's shoulder, looked him in the eye and told him, "Thanks, Jared, for coming in to talk to me about this. I appreciate the heads up. Now, I hate to run, but I really need to get to my appointment. You need an excuse for being late to your next period class?"

"Yes, sir." And as Jim scrawled a line or two on his notepad, Jared said, "Thanks for listening, Mr. Beaver. Let me know what the sheriff and the others have to say?"

Beaver said he would, and Jared looked a little relieved as he left for his last class, Principal Beaver's scrawled excuse in his hand.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Jensen and Lee were waiting on the front porch when Jim reached his house. Mara had done her job; he noted the sweating glass of iced tea in each of their hands.

He nodded to the alpha, "Lee."

Rumohr raised his glass in salute. "Principal Beaver."

"I don't stand on ceremony, you know that. It's just Jim." He turned to the boy. "Jensen, if you'll step inside with me, we'll get started."

 

Omundson had called Alan and asked if he could come by the mayor's office while Jensen was taking his placement tests. Alan arrived to find Omundson and two of his men waiting with Kim.

"Hi, Alan. Good to see you again."

Alan shook Tim's hand and sat in one of the chairs he indicated. Tim took the other. "You've had a little time now to look over Wolverton and get a feel for the town. Does it feel like a place where you and your family could live and be happy?"

"I think so," Alan said, with some hesitancy. "Everyone here has been nothing but kind and welcoming, both to me and to Jensen. It seems like the kind of place Jensen needs to feel safe, and I'm starting to feel comfortable here."

He took a breath and tackled the real reason for his delay. "But, my wife has no idea about any of this—that Jensen's been found, why he was abducted in the first place, and most of all, the changes that our son has undergone and will have to live with the rest of his life. Once she's had a chance to work through all that, then she'll be able to understand why Jensen can't come home, why Mackenzie may be in jeopardy from these wolves as well. And then she'll be able to see the wisdom of this kind of move for our family."

Omundson nodded thoughtfully before he spoke. "I do realize what you're saying. That's one reason I wanted to speak with you. You recall that I have men at your home, watching over your family?"

Alarm spiked at the reminder. "Has there been anything—?"

Omundson shook his head in reassurance. "No, nothing yet. But we are pushing the odds, here. I think it's time we got your wife and daughter out of their exposed position and here where they'll be more protected. You haven't discussed any of the events since Jensen contacted you with your wife?"

Somewhat shamefaced, Alan shook his head in the negative. "I just haven't known how to bring it up," he told the alpha. "And I couldn't do it over the phone. I need to sit down with her, face to face."

"Well, I think it's time. She needs to know what's happened to Jensen, and I'm sure she will want to see him. And you two need to talk about moving to Wolverton, and possibly even find a house while she and your daughter are here, even if this trip winds up being just a visit before they move. I want you to call your wife in the next 24 hours, and explain what's going on. Have her and your daughter ready to travel, and you can vouch for my men, who will drive them here."

"She has her own car—"

"But I doubt she will be able to defend herself and your daughter should any of the Fenris pack be watching and take this opportunity to attack, and possibly kidnap your daughter. Or follow her car to Wolverton, and come to take Jensen back."

Omundson waited for a beat while those possibilities sunk in. And when they did, Alan asked, a little shakily. "Are there names I can give her? Other proof that your men are who they say they are?"

Omundson agreed. "I'll get you that information before you leave."

Alan nodded, forced to accept that he couldn't put off explaining everything to Donna any longer.

 

Jim was pleased to see the boy testing close to grade level for his age on several things. Specific course knowledge lagged behind, but not irremediably far, and Beaver spent a couple of evenings designing course work for Jensen. He called Ms. Abbott's to let the Ackles know he was ready to go over Jensen's assignments with him. He made a list of textbooks he needed to bring home from the school book storeroom, and when Jensen called back, they decided to meet Saturday morning to go over the work Jensen would be doing.

Jensen was eager to get back into schoolwork, which puzzled him a little. "I've never been much of a bookworm," he remarked to his dad.

"Yes, but it's normal for a kid your age to have to study, bring home assignments, and do classwork." He punched Jensen's shoulder gently. "Getting back to real life, kid," he said with a grin. Jensen grinned back, and he nodded.

"Yeah," he agreed. "You're right. I'm ready."

 

Alan left a voicemail for Donna, saying that he needed to talk to her sometime when she wasn't working, and when Mackenzie wasn't there. She texted back with a time, and a "what's up?" But he just sent back, "Tell you when I call. Love you."

When he did call, he told her that their son had been found. That he was with Alan. That he was safe. He let her cry with joy and celebrate for a few minutes, but then he had to tell her that the men who had kidnapped their son were almost certainly trying to find him, to take him back, and so Alan had turned to people who could help, who would help to keep Jensen safe. They were in a secluded location, and Alan had arranged to bring Donna and Mackenzie to meet them, men who would drive them from home, who would be aware if anyone tried to follow them, who could protect Mackenzie and Donna should anything happen.

"I'm sorry it all sounds so cloak and dagger, hon," he told her, hearing the disbelief and fear clearly in her voice. "But Jensen hasn't had an easy time, and this is the best way to keep him safe, and give him back some kind of normal life."

"Alan?" She sounded angry, and he knew her well, knew that this was the way she reacted to things that scared her. "I don't understand. What aren't you telling me?"

"Sweetheart, I swear I'll tell you everything, but I really need you both to come to us, okay? I promise you'll be safe, and I promise I'll tell you everything once you're here. Please say you'll come."

She finally agreed, and he gave her a pass phrase the men would know, along with their names and descriptions. He told her they would be at the house in the morning to drive her and Mackenzie to meet Jensen and him, and they should pack for a long weekend.

"And while you're packing, can you pack some clothes for me, too? Jeans and shirts, nothing fancy. T-shirts. I bought underwear and socks for Jensen and me both. But I could use a couple of pairs of sneakers, and some pjs?"

"Alan? How much longer are you planning on staying there?"

"Not much longer, I hope," he told her. "But I've been wearing the same two sets of clothes—one of those bought at a thrift shop—and washing out my underwear by hand. I need enough clothes to actually make up a load for the washer. Please, hon? If you don't mind?"

He could hear the grin in her voice when she agreed, and knew she was picturing him bent over a bathroom sink scrubbing out his skivvies with bar soap.

"I can't wait to see you, sweetheart. I've missed you. I've missed you both."

"We miss you, too," she answered. "I—we'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah, baby. See you tomorrow. Love you."

"Love you, too."

 

Jensen did not have an easy morning. When Alan asked, he was positive in his wish to see his mom and sister again. But Alan remembered how hard it had been for Jensen to tell his dad what had happened to him, what he had become. And Alan knew his son was feeling all of that uncertainty and fear of rejection now. All he could do was grip a shoulder. Give a pat on the back in passing. And offer a reassuring smile now and then.

Both Lee and Hugo were within sight, though not obviously on guard as Alan and Jensen waited on Ms. Abbott's front porch. When the SUV pulled to a stop and Donna and Mackenzie stepped out, Alan was first to move, to wrap one, then both of his girls in a hug. Donna's gaze went to Jensen, and she turned and held out her arms. Like he was drawn on a line, the boy stepped into his mother's embrace. She loosened her arms after a moment or two, and looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, and smiled. Her boy had grown so tall! He felt a tugging at his sleeve and turned to see his baby sister, fourteen now, and still trying to keep from jumping up and down with excitement and impatience.

"Mack!" He turned from his mom to engulf his sister in a bear hug, and she hugged him back just as hard.

"Missed you!" she murmured into his shirt front, which was now damp with her tears.

"You too, squirt," he grinned down at her, and she made a face and whacked him on the arm.

"You got so tall!" It sounded like an accusation, the way she said it.

"Okay, everybody," Alan held out his arms to shepherd his family into the building. "Ms. Abbott has set aside a meeting room for us, with drinks and some of her wonderful hummingbird cake. Let's all go inside and catch up."

After cake and some chatter, after getting and giving their fill of hugs and long, fond, assessing looks, Alan suggested a tour of the town, and everyone climbed into the familiar family car. It was the first time they had all ridden together in a very long time. Hugo followed them in his own vehicle, at a discreet distance.

Alan wanted to show off the charm of the town, and as they drove, he pointed out a few of the houses he and Jensen had viewed. Donna didn't have much to say about the houses though, or the town. She couldn't really seem to take her eyes off her son. Jensen wanted to be happy under his mom's gaze, with Mack by his side, but somehow he couldn't relax. He felt ill at ease. Donna couldn't seem to help it, though. Rather than interacting with Alan, and even less so with Jensen, she seemed quiet.

They returned to Ms. Abbott's after their tour, and Alan suggested that Jensen show Mackenzie around town. He needed to pick up some school supplies, so why didn't they walk down to the stationer's and see what they had in stock? Jensen was glad enough to escape the confines of the room, and Mack was willing to follow where he led. Jensen introduced Hugo, who moved off with them on their errand.

Alan hoped the errand would keep them occupied for a couple of hours. He had a quiet word with Hugo, and asked him to make sure Alan and Donna had an hour or so before the kids came back. When the door closed quietly behind them Donna turned to her husband, finally too impatient to wait any longer for the promised explanation.

“All right, Alan, tell me what the hell is going on! What did those kidnappers do to Jensen--what has my baby been through?" She didn't give him time to answer, continuing almost without a breath. "He’s changed, Alan, so much. He's so tall! But it's not just that. He's...quieter. Even with Mack he's not our silly, goofy boy. He seems almost a grown man now, and so serious when he thinks nobody's paying attention. There's so much I've missed! He’s changed—he's just not like himself. Tell me what's happened to him."

She grabbed onto Alan’s shirt and held on, tears in her eyes threatening to fall.

Alan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in tight. “It’ll all be explained, love. Be patient. There’s … there’s someone I want you to meet. A man who understands what Jensen has gone through and can explain it far better than I can. He’s in charge of tracking down the kidnappers. They won’t get away with this, Dee, I promise you. Just be patient, let him speak. Be grateful our boy has come out of this in one piece. He's healthy now, and he's starting to smile. We have reason to celebrate.” He patted her hands and pulled away, stood and walked to the door to speak to someone outside in the hall.

The man who came into the room was a stranger to her, though Alan seemed to know him well. He introduced him as Timothy Omundson, and Omundson asked her to call him Tim as he took a seat. She regarded Alan with questions in her eyes, and Alan sat in the chair next to her, reached over and took her hand.

"Tim's here to help me explain," he told her. "And to back me up on some of the story that's going to sound impossible to you."

Omundson merely nodded, and waited for Alan to go on. Alan took a breath, and started.

 

Being with Mack again was fun. Jensen had forgotten what talking trash and teasing his sister about her latest boy band crushes, and trying to find out which boys at school she was sweet on wasn't quite the same when his knowledge of the music world was three years out of date, and he had no idea who the people were she was talking about from school. But he was delighted to discover that the annoying big brother moves were still there, irrelevant to concrete facts, and so they picked up their parts in that game without a stumble.

The stationer's was surprisingly well stocked, even with Jensen's preferred brand of notebooks, and a new style of highlighter in neat new colors, along with his favorite pens. Jensen stocked up, and offered to buy stuff for Mack, as well. But she assured him her school supplies were well stocked. He did slip a packet of novelty gum erasers into his purchases; they were molded in the shape of cartoon and anime characters he remembered her being fond of.

When they found a bench in the park to sit and eat the soft serve cones Jensen bought them from the ice cream parlor, he gave her the little packet. She squealed a little, and thanked him with a smile.

"This has been fun, bro. But there's stuff going on, stuff I'm not being told. I—I know you've been through some shit, and I don't want to push, if you're not ready to tell me about it, okay?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but she kept talking. "Let me get this out. I don't care what's happened, you're still my big brother. Anything I can do, I'll do it. I'm here, for whatever, whenever you need me."

Her tongue lapped at a long drip that threatened to fall, before she looked him straight in the face and repeated, "Whatever, whenever. I know I look like a kid, Jensen. But you're not the only one who had to grow up in the last three years. Having you gone, like that? Was really hard. On me, but on Mama and Daddy, too."

Her face scrunched as she shot a look at him from under her brows. "Try being an only child, dude. It's not all 'I don't gotta share nothin', man!' It's also nobody else to blame when all Mom's chocolate gets eaten, or the paint can in the garage gets kicked over."

His eyebrows rose in mock consternation, "You didn't!"

"Well, you weren't there to blame it on." She grinned again, then sobered. "But it was pretty hard, being their only chick, and them trying to not let me out of their sight. Like, ever." There was a beat; her face reflected some of the difficulty of her last three years. And then her grin grew very big, and she swung her legs and bounced where she sat. "So, you're back now. And I can put the blame on you for _Ev_ erything!"

 

Jensen had been looking, sort of, for an opening to tell Mack at least the werewolf part of what had happened to him. This seemed like that chance. But he didn't want to upset this moment, this affectionate reunion between them.

He was sure his dad would make an opportunity to tell his mom—in fact, that could be happening right now. A quick chill ran down Jensen's back; the next time he saw her, she might know what he was. How would she react? How could he know if she would see him differently? As no longer her son? Or if she would still welcome him, even if— He cut off that line of thought. But he did consider that perhaps his parents would want to tell Mack themselves, and in their own time and place. Even if it was his story to tell, he didn't feel comfortable going against their wishes, if that was the case. So he grabbed his sister's wrist and feinted at her cone, only pretending to devour it. She shrieked, as he expected, and he let go.

"But I was only trying to help!" he protested. "It's melting all over!"

She called him names, and bit a big mouthful of ice cream off the cone, and then did the brain freeze face for a few minutes while he laughed at her.

 

Hugo watched the kids, a smile softening his features. He liked the kid, at least what he'd seen having watched over him for a few days. Honestly, from what he and Lee had been told, the kid had been through several kinds of hell, but he seemed to be recovering. Still timid—but most omegas were more timid than betas or alphas—but you could see the intelligence and humor that were part of him, man or wolf. Hugo observed and acknowledged the sibling closeness, hoping that would serve to keep the boy and his sister close once she learned the truth.

 

As Alan had feared and expected, Donna didn't take any of the news well, and when the hysterics started to mount, Tim was quick to reassure Donna that Jensen was being protected, was welcome in town, as his family would be. People in town would happily make a place for them, find a job for Donna and get Mack situated in school. She listened, watching his face carefully as he spoke, trying to judge the truth of what he was saying.

After the storm of hysterics, a kind of shock began to set in, and Donna said little and seemed to withdraw somewhat, as Alan and Tim each tried to reassure her that things were going to work out okay for Jensen, for the family. That they would be happy in Wolverton, Jensen and Mackenzie would be safe and protected by the whole town, allowed to be kids and live a good life. That the family would be together, would make new friends here, and would be happy.

She was obviously listening, but she didn't have much to say. Alan knew she needed time to adjust, to think things through. He stood, and thanked Tim for his support, and suggested he and Donna needed some time alone to talk. Tim agreed and, offering help if he was needed, left Alan and Donna alone. Alan sat next to his wife, put an arm around her and pulled her into his side. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he didn't try to talk anymore. He didn't try to push her to talk, either. It was enough that they were together, and that she finally knew the truth. It was good that the secrets were out. He knew she would need some time to adjust to the new facts of their lives, before she could begin to consider where their family would go from here. He was content to sit in silence and hold her close, before they needed to make plans for moving forward.

The kids got back before dinner time, with bags full of notebooks, pens, markers, and other supplies. Jensen took his haul up to the room he and Alan shared. And since there were no other boarders at the moment, the family had the dining room to themselves for dinner.

Mackenzie was going full force with animated chatter, attempting to bring Jensen up to date with all the goings on in the neighborhood, including the Murphys' pregnant cat who had given birth to six orange kittens, along with what Jensen’s old friends were up to, who was dating who, who wasn't speaking to whoever else, and why. It felt almost like a happy reunion. Alan joined in where he could, but their efforts didn't quite cover for Donna’s silence.

Donna couldn't meet Jensen's gaze, but she couldn't keep from watching him as he ate, and conversed with his dad, and teased his sister. He tried to draw his mom into conversation, too, but without much success. He could feel her eyes on him, and he wished she would just talk to him. Her silent observation felt creepy. He had a bad moment when he suddenly thought she might blame him for everything that had happened. Did his mom believe it was his fault? Had he somehow brought it on himself? Suddenly it was hard to breathe. His heartrate sped up and he wondered why everyone else in the room couldn't hear it pounding away in his chest. He sent an anxious glance in her direction, but she wasn't looking at him just then. And then Mack grabbed his arm and shook it, asking a question he had to ask her to repeat, after he gasped in surprise and shook himself out of his sudden panic. He kept slanting glances at his mom, but she never seemed to be looking back, he couldn't catch her eye. And his dad appeared to notice nothing wrong.

He gave it up, after a while. He was tired, and his appetite had fled. He played idly with his fork and smiled absently at Mack's prattling until Alan announced that maybe everyone needed to take a little time on their own in their rooms.

He’d rented two additional rooms for the night: Mackenzie had her own, a ruffled, flowery wallpapered little candybox, and Jensen had the room he and his dad had been sharing. Ms. Abbott put Alan and Donna in her best room, with a view of the mountains beyond the forest, and a vast, kingsized bed.

Once they were alone, though Alan reached for his wife, to ease the loneliness both of them had been suffering, she didn't want sex. But she was glad to be held, to have his arms around her, and for the familiarity of him breathing next to her as she tried to sort through the strange turn her son's life had taken, and how she was ever going to deal with that fact, of Jensen's future, and Mack's, and of their family's future.

Alan laid awake for a long time, aware that this was only the beginning of the tough adjustments and conversations they would need to have.

 

The bed was empty when Alan woke. The sheets were cold, though it was early enough the room was still awash in grey dawnlight. He lifted his head, "Donna?"

"Here."

He turned his gaze to the window, where she sat in an armchair facing the view. "It's really beautiful here," she said.

"Yes, it is," he agreed, sitting up. "Why are you up so early?"

"Couldn't sleep," she confessed.

He pulled on the robe he'd tossed over the footboard and sat beside her at the window in the matching armchair. She was already dressed, and as his glance took in more of the dimly lit room, he saw her suitcases were waiting beside the door. "You're leaving?"

Her expression was stricken, but firm, when her eyes met his, and she nodded.

"But—there's so much to talk about. So much you still don't know, things we need to decide, as a family—"

"I can't stay," she said, and though her voice carried a tinge of regret, it held no indecisiveness.

"Sweetheart."

"I can't stay, Alan." He could see the tear tracks, illuminated as the sun's first rays breached the treeline. "I missed him so much. I imagined every kind of horror when he was taken, when we couldn't find him, when time dragged on, and we heard nothing. I couldn't stand thinking about him, about where he might be—or that he might be dead." She sniffed, and blew her nose on the tissue in her hand. "Gradually, I guess I made myself put some distance between the pain and my life as it was happening. I had to keep living, I had to take care of Mackenzie—and you. I had to, or I wouldn't have survived."

Tears glimmered as she looked at him. "When you told me he'd been found—it was a minute before I could breathe. I couldn't believe it. And then I was so enormously happy I just couldn't deal with it. I couldn't wait to see him. To get to him, I dismissed all worries and suspicions of the cloak and dagger stuff that went on to get Mack and me here. It didn't matter, because I was going to see my boy!"

She wiped with her fingers at the tears that hadn't stopped falling. "And now, I can't—I can't look at him. He's so different, so—" She raised a glance to him she couldn't hold. "It's not just that he's grown, matured, while he's been gone. I expected that, though I did think there would be something left of the boy I raised."

"How can you say that? He's still that boy. He needs his parents, his family—"

"No." Her voice was flat, implacable. "He's—something else, now. Can't you feel it?" A delicate shudder went through her, though she tried to suppress it. "The whole town—I can sense it, running like a strange undercurrent, some unfamiliar energy beneath and behind every normal-appearing thing I see."

"Sweetheart, you're imagining things. These are good people—"

"Not people, Alan. Stop pretending they are. They're not the same as us. They're different, not human, no matter how much they look like it, and how much they try to pretend."

He just listened, shocked to silence, as she went on. "I can feel it. It's making me ill, to be here. I have to leave."

"But—Jensen," he pled. "Our son needs us, needs his family."

Her smile was sad as she put a conciliatory hand on his arm. "He has a new family now. And they can teach him and care for him in his new life far better than we can."

He couldn't think fast enough of any lucid, logical argument, and her hand tightened a little before she released him. "I'm taking Mack. I can't leave her here in this...place."

"What if she wants to stay? What if Jensen wants her to stay? And I say she's welcome to stay if she wants?"

"Then I'll divorce you and get full custody." She didn't raise her voice. This wasn't anger, this was conviction. Her attitude left him reeling.

"Donna!"

"I'm not leaving our child here at the mercy of werewolves."

"But that's exactly what you're doing—to Jensen. You're abandoning him!"

She smiled at him kindly as she rose from her chair. "I'm not. He has others to teach him, now." She picked up the cardigan draped across her suitcase and put a hand on the doorknob. "And you." The smile broadened a little. "At least for now. I hope you'll soon see sense, though, and come home to us."

She turned the knob. "Mackenzie needs to get ready to leave. I trust you'll arrange for us to be driven home?"

"Donna, the house isn't safe. We need to talk more about this—make plans, to move, to get you—and Mack, if you insist on taking her with you—someplace safe to live."

"We'll do that, by phone, if you can't come home yet. But I can't stay here any longer." She was through the door, but looked back to say, "Please arrange for the drive, dear. I want to leave after breakfast."

And she was gone, down the corridor to Mack's room.

What was he supposed to do now?

 

Mackenzie wasn't in her room, and Jensen's door was open, his room empty. A tickle of uneasiness propelled Donna downstairs and through the empty lobby, until she saw Mack's bright head in the morning light, she and her brother in two of the rocking chairs on the porch. They were talking and laughing, much the way they had always done, when things were normal. Donna felt the same urgency to get herself and her daughter out of town and away from these strangers, but something—memory, nostalgia, possibly even mother-love, momentarily overcame, or at least delayed, her bursting onto the porch to separate her children, to send Mackenzie to pack, and to leave the boy who had been born to her behind, rejected and abandoned.

Such melodrama. She shook her head at her own folly, drew a deep breath, and took a step back. A few moments' delay wasn't going to hurt anything. And it might ease the inevitable pain of separation, for both her children.

A sound in the dining room informed her that Ms. Abbott's staff was about, preparing the room for breakfast. Very well. She would wait until after the meal to send Mackenzie to pack.

 

While Mack argued and protested, Jensen stared, from his mom to his dad, in wordless appeal, before the truth sunk in. His mother wasn't going to reconsider. To her mind, he was already in her past, someone she no longer knew or cared for. He didn't understand how he knew, but the certainty nearly took him to his knees. And his dad, though trying to be strong for both his children, was just as devastated as Jensen.

"Mack." Jensen reached to take her hand. "This is pointless. Come on, let's get you packed."

"Jenny!" She spun on him, disbelief and shock in every atom of her right at that moment. "You can't just—" She turned to her dad. "Daddy, you can't let her—"

"Mackenzie, we're not going to argue now. Your mother needs to leave."

"Well, let her go, then! I'm staying."

"I'm not leaving you here," Donna said, and Mack knew the look in her mother's eye. She wouldn't be argued out of whatever she'd decided, and she wouldn't be defied.

"But—Jensen," she appealed to both parents. "We just found him. We can't—"

"Mackenzie, go pack your things. We're leaving in half an hour." Donna turned to her husband. "If the car will be ready then?"

Alan could do no more than nod.

Jensen tugged her by the hand. "Come on, Little Bit. Let's get you packed up."

And something in his voice, something in his expression made her relinquish her fight and follow him.

"Don't be long!" their mother's voice followed them up the stairs.

 

Jensen wasn't waiting now for his parents' permission. Something in his mother's demeanor, and some deep acquiescence in his father's, made him wonder if he'd ever see his baby sister again, once she drove away from Wolverton. He took both her hands in his and sat her on the edge of the bed. "Mackie, you have to listen to me—no. It's my turn to talk and I don't have long. Mom may not want me to talk to you—be with you."

"But why?" she wailed. "I don't understand what's—"

He shook her hands a little. "The men who took me," he had her attention, he couldn't take the time to soften this. "They were werewolves." When she opened her mouth to speak, he tightened his grip on her wrists. "Yes, it's true. Yes, they exist. And they bit me." She shook her head in denial and tried to pull away, drew breath to speak, and once more he held her hands tighter, shook her to bring her focus back to him. "I'm a werewolf. Dad knows. He told Mom. And she can't deal with it. That's why she's leaving."

She'd stopped trying to get her hands free, stopped trying to move away, to speak. She just looked at him, taking in his familiar features, disbelief warring with the truth she saw in his eyes. "I can't tell you what to think, Mack, how to feel. But you ought to know the truth." He sent a swift glance to the hallway outside the door. "She's probably going to be angry that I told you, but I had to. If you still love me—" Mackenzie pulled her hands free and threw her arms around his neck.

"Don't be stupid, Jensen," she said, her voice wobbly with new-sprung tears. "You're still my big brother. I'll always love you."

She squeezed hard, and he held her just as tight. "Okay." The relief he felt was much greater than he had expected. "Okay, we'll figure out a way to keep in touch. I'll call, or write, or email—something."

"If she lets us," Mack said.

"Yeah," Jensen had to agree. It looked like his Mom wanted to cut all ties with him. Maybe their dad could run interference. He hoped so, anyway. His ears picked up footsteps at the bottom of the stairs, and he gave Mack a quick hard hug before he turned her loose, got up to retrieve her bag and set it on the bed.

"No, you're the one who's going to have to search under the bed," he told her, his smirk and raised eyebrow in place. "You've probably got nine shoes and a couple of purses under there by now."

She was quick on the uptake, sliding to her knees and lifting the bedskirt. "I didn't even bring nine shoes with me," she scoffed. She did emerge with a single sneaker, then stood and scanned the floor for its mate. She and Jensen looked at the same moment toward the doorway where Donna stood.

"Ten minutes," she said to Mackenzie. She didn't even look at Jensen.

He smiled anyway and reassured her. "She'll be down in time."

Their mother lingered in the doorway, as if hesitating to leave them alone together. Mackenzie broke first, turning to retrieve her things from the dresser drawer. Jensen moved toward the closet. "Anything in here?"

"A couple of things," his sister said, and when they looked again, Donna was gone.

The bags were loaded and the motor was running. The driver and a second man were already in the car. Mack hugged her dad, and whispered, "Fix her!" before turning him loose. She turned to Jensen and clung to him fiercely.

He murmured. "Gonna be okay, Little Bit," hoping she picked up on the list of: You, I, the situation, Mom, he was referring to. She sniffled, and batted at her eyes with one hand.

"Hope so," she said, turning him loose.

Alan held onto Donna, and she hugged him back, before they stepped apart. She turned toward the car, then stopped and walked straight to Jensen. She wrapped him up in a tight hug, held on for a minute or two and told him. "Always love you, son."

"You too, Mama." He held on tight till she stepped away and got into the car, and it was pulling onto the street in the next minute. Mack waved for as long as she was in sight. Donna never looked back.

 

Lee watched the car pull away, saw Ackles move up to put an arm around the kid's shoulders. Jensen didn't lean in, though. He stood straight, watching his mother and sister leave.

"I'm so sorry, Jensen," Alan said. "I had no idea."

Jensen eased out from under his dad's arm. "Yeah, well. It's a surprise. It hit her pretty hard."

No harder than it had hit the kid when he found himself turned, Lee thought.

Alan offered, "Maybe she'll come around. I'll work on her."

Jensen threw him a weak grin. "Thanks." He moved toward the door and stopped. "I don't want to lose Mack, too," he appealed to his father. "Don't let her keep us apart."

Alan sighed heavily. "I wish I could promise, son. But I swear, I'll do what I can. Did you tell Mack?" Jensen nodded, and he asked, "How did she take it?"

The composure the kid had fought for cracked. His features twisted and tears sprang to his eyes. "Good," he said. "Like a champ."

Alan nodded in relief.

"No time for Q&A, but I got a hug and a fierce poke in the ribs for doubting her." The grin was heartening.

Alan's arms engulfed his son and he declared, voice rough with emotion, "I have great kids."

Jensen stood it for a minute before he eeled out of his dad's hold and punched him gently in the shoulder. "Your fault—you raised us."

 

Lee watched silently as the father and son stepped back inside. He would never understand humans, how a mother could just reject and abandon her child. He'd seen it with wolves, of course, but usually because the mother was incapable of caring for her young. Donna had just seemed cold and anxious to leave Jensen behind.

Alan, though, was as dedicated a father as Lee had ever known, even through the tough circumstances his son had experienced, and was still likely to face.

And Jensen— Lee knew the kid had been through a rough turning, with no support, at all. He had managed to get himself out of a bad situation, find help, and was fast adjusting to pack life. The kid was strong, for an omega.

The fact remained. Lee still didn't understand humans.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

     

 

"How are you doing with that?" Dr. Ferris asked. She had known about Donna's hasty departure, and wondered how deeply it had affected her son.

For a split second, Jensen wilted, his body slumped where he sat, his head lowered as though his neck hadn't the strength to hold it up. Then he seemed to shake it off and straightened his spine, resettled his body erect in the chair, lifted his head and met her eyes. "I can't change her reaction," he answered. "It's not something I can work toward changing. I can't even really blame her for reacting the way she did. It's obviously a werewolf thing for her." He gave a quick eyeroll and shrug of apology for his mother's prejudice, and Samantha inclined her head in acknowledgement. He went on, "It wasn't actually even personal, toward me."

She fought to keep her eyebrows level. This was surprising empathy from a child about his parent, and one so young.

"I know she's always loved me. She taught me well. She will always love me, in an abstract way now, I guess." He shrugged. "I just don't fit the image, present or future, that she's always had for me."

He sipped at his water bottle, and went on. "My dad thinks he can work on her, get her to...I don't know, become accustomed to the werewolf thing." He met her gaze again, and shook his head. "I'm not so sure. I love her, she's my mom. I don't want to lose touch with her.

"But if she can't stand to be around me, then I can’t spend the rest of my life trying to convince her. It’s not like I asked for any of this. I didn’t ask to be made into—into something she can’t love. I'm not the kid she knew, I know that. But I have to learn about, find out who and what I am now. If I have to do that without her, then I guess that's what I have to do."

If her eyebrows could have climbed any further they'd have been in Samantha's hairline. Where was this wisdom and perspective coming from? This wasn't the shattered boy she'd spoken with on previous occasions. That boy did make an appearance though; Jensen's features twisted as he added. "Sucks, though. You always want your mom, you know? It hurts, when she doesn't want you back."

He took a deep breath. "But as long as she doesn't try to keep me from talking to my sister, I guess we're good."

 

On Tuesday, Jensen went back to Dr. Speight's office to have his contraceptive implant checked, and to pick up his prescription for suppressants. The doc sat him down, and using charts and diagrams, he explained Jensen's anatomy, werewolf genders, a brief overview of carrying and delivering young in both forms, and why Jensen and other omegas reacted to alphas the way they did.

He explained that the suppressants would prevent Jensen's heats, though he would have to plan for and allow himself a heat for every four or five heats he skipped—they would have to see what worked best. Speight explained that the suppressants would also help damp down his response to alphas, but wouldn't eliminate it. Jensen asked if betas responded the same way to alpha command, and the doc said they did, but not nearly as intensely as omegas.

Jensen wanted to know if there was any form of permanent heat suppressant, or birth control. The doc hesitated before he said, no, there was nothing currently available. From Speight's behavior, Jensen guessed the doc was withholding information. Jensen didn't know why he would do that. If there were better, more permanent methods to avoid heats and prevent pregnancy, he didn't want to have to rely on pills someone else might gain control of, and the implant, which would need to be replaced periodically to continue to function.

Speight looked Jensen straight in the eye. "Look, kid. At some point you're going to want to mate with someone, and whoever it is will expect to have a family with you. Trust me, when you find your mate, you're going to want their pups as much as they will."

Jensen shook his head no. "Not a chance in hell, doc. No pups."

Speight cocked an eyebrow at him. "Does your family know about the other pups?"

"No. And I don't plan for them to ever find out. That part of my life is over."

Speight's heart hurt for the kid. He still had a lot to recover from, and who knew if he would ever be all the way over it.

"So that's why I need to know if there's any way—I don't want anybody else to _ever_ be able to force me into that again. There has to be something, some way."

It was hard to deny the hope shining in the kid's face, but legally, there wasn't anything else Speight could offer Jensen. "I'm sorry, kid. This is what we got."

He waited a minute for the kid to digest the news, and then suggested, "Look, Jensen. I'm not going to say anything to anybody. But your dad, at least, needs to know the truth. You need to have that conversation with him, if not now, then soon."

Jensen looked away, but not before Speight caught the glitter of tears. "Why? Why do I have to tell him _more_ awful crap about what happened to me? He can't change it. It'll just make him feel more like he let me down."

"He didn't."

"I know that. But I'm his kid. To him, that means it's his job to keep me safe. He thinks he didn't do that, and it's tearing him up. There was nothing he could have done, but that doesn't seem to matter, you know? So he doesn't need to know about this, too."

Speight took a long moment, watching the kid, before finally asking, "Wasn't there anything about the experience that was...less than awful for you?"

He couldn't decipher the expression on Jensen's face as he continued. "You gave birth, Jensen. To new life. Wasn't that at least something to be proud of?"

Jensen didn't move, or turn to face him. His voice when he spoke was flat and emotionless. "I was made pregnant. I didn't know, the first time, that's what it was. When they were born, they fed. The betas took them away, cleaned them up, took care of them until they brought them back to feed. And when they were old enough to eat on their own my heat started and the whole thing repeated itself." Jensen didn't meet Speight's gaze, he didn't even look in his direction. "It didn't really have much to do with me. There was nothing to take pride in, just the body that had been forced on me doing its thing—like digesting, or breathing."

He flickered a blank gaze at the doc. "So no, in answer to your question, there's nothing worth telling my dad. All it will do is make him feel worse for letting them take me, for not finding me sooner."

Speight couldn't find words for a moment, but finally he said, "Okay. I understand your opinion. But if the occasion comes up, you think hard about telling him the whole truth. Don't risk him finding out some other way." He waited until the kid faced him. "Yeah?"

Jensen wiped a palm over his face, clearing the tears. "Okay," he said. "Sure."

Neither of them believed him.

 

Beaver was impressed by the speed at which Jensen powered through his lessons, showing up every afternoon, even some Saturdays, and passing test after test in almost every subject. It was possible a couple of years' maturity had a positive influence on his grasp of theory, and of historical perspective. The fact was that, except in a few instances, he was proceeding through the material even faster than Beaver had hoped.

He asked a teacher or two to drop by the house after school to discuss their subject with the kid, and to test him on what he had learned. Mr. Albertson, the math teacher, had to go over calc with him, more than once. Calculus was not a subject Jensen picked up intuitively. But he buckled down and did the exercizes Albertson set for him, finished his assignments, and passed the subject sooner than the principal had expected.

One-on-one was good for Jensen. But a bit of peer discussion might be helpful, too. Principal Beaver gave some thought to the student or students he thought might be compatible with the kid.

No alphas. Everyone had noticed Jensen had a heightened omega fear and submission response to alphas, especially unfamiliar ones. He did seem to have gotten accustomed to and fairly comfortable around Hugo and Lee. As far as Jim knew, Jensen hadn't come in contact with any other alphas here in Wolverton, except Omundson and Morgan and their men, when he and his dad first got to town. Still, it would be best not to introduce an alpha student as his first acquaintance. Beaver thought boys might be a better match than girls, at least at first. He expected Jensen to feel more in common with another guy, or guys.

Thinking over the students he'd had some personal contact with, he dismissed both alphas and omegas, narrowing his candidates to betas. He wanted somebody who had a good sense of humor and could laugh, but someone who also had enough sensitivity to respond to Jensen's shyness and hesitancy with kindness and understanding. As often as he glanced through files, the Padalecki kid kept coming back to mind. And at last he acknowledged his hunch that Jared would be good for Jensen.

* * *

After coordination and close cooperation between the PTA, the Athletic Department, the Student Government, and the School Athletics Booster Club, several fund drives had been held, with one common goal in mind. And after four years of concerted efforts, the high school finally had enough money to build an athletic stadium. Finally, football, baseball, soccer, and la crosse teams, and track and field competitors had a place to practice, and to compete. Pride and joy of the school, teams, students, and parents, the stadium was used and beloved from the moment the ribbon was cut at the dedication ceremony.

But as the first season passed for each of the sports played in the stadium, dissatisfaction began to grow. Because of the way the campus was laid out, an unbroken curve of grey cinderblock wall faced the road and the entrance to the school, and after the initial glow of achievement and pride of ownership began to fade a little, folks began to think it looked a little...plain. So, obviously, did a few student vandals, who took it upon themselves to splash opinions and observations in garish bright paint all across that blank grey surface, including some rather innovative and inventive graphic diagrams and cartoonish figures.

It was decided to cover the entire wall with a mural—or murals. Such a vast surface was large enough to divide into panels, and offer several student artists the chance to collaborate in an overall theme, and express themselves within their individual panels. Ideas and examples for the panels were submitted, and two students from the art department chosen to create the first two panels. Once the panel design was approved by a committee of faculty and Booster parents, the artist could assemble a student team to work on it, or work alone if he or she preferred. More panels would be assigned as funds allowed.

One of the student artists, Trevor Linwood, was a rising sophomore, still slight and boyish, and what attention he spared from his first love, art, he gave to music, studying and playing three instruments in whatever spare time he wasn't painting. He was thrilled to be given a panel to fill. Finally there was something he could give back to the school he loved, even though he couldn't be a famous football hero like his brother, Trip.

Terrence Arthur Linwood, III, known as Trip to his friends and family, had presented as an alpha more than a year ago, and he would be a senior once school started again in the fall, a valuable member of the football team, quarterback, and co-captain. He was handsome, brash, outgoing, popular with girls and his teammates. Most people believed that once Trip had finished his schooling he would naturally rise to a position as part of the district Alpha's team, even eventually work directly for Pack Alpha Morgan. Trip was everything a parent or mentor could hope for.

Trevor's talents lay in a different direction. With Trip as the shining star, both in the family and in school, Trev had always felt a bit overlooked. Trip had always taken his popularity as a given, and as older brothers do, had teased Trev for not being more aggressive in sports. But Trev was small and slight, and tended to be intimidated by older, bigger boys. Trip told him he shouldn’t let that stop him. He did also freely admire Trevor's art, and was usually ready to listen to a new tune the younger boy was composing. Even so, Trevor couldn't help realizing that music and art just weren't as important to his family and at school as Trip's athletic prowess.

But now Trevor had been given this chance, and he was going to paint a mural that would wow the whole school—students, teachers, parents, opposing teams, everybody! Just watch him!

 

It was the last week of school, and the days were already getting hot. Jared and Chad wandered past the stadium on their way home after school. Trevor was sitting on the grass, absorbed in sketching out ideas for the mural. His brother Trip was with a bunch of teammates and other alpha juniors and seniors, plus a couple of the slightly older alphas who had started hanging around with the alphas from school. The group were laughing, pushing and jostling each other and talking trash amongst themselves. They started moving toward the school, crossing behind the stadium where Trevor was working. They started catcalling him, rough teasing, scruffing his hair and smacking his head, and then one of them snatched his drawing pad away. Trevor looked to Trip, who looked uncomfortable, even while he kept laughing with the others. But after a minute or so he said, "Um, hey, guys..."

The alphas ignored Trip and continued to get rougher with the boy, as Jared and Chad approached from the school building heading in the opposite direction.

"Hey Trip," Jared called, and several of the alphas turned his way. Chad kept walking, mingling and trash talking with the other alphas. He threw arms around a couple of them and kept on walking and talking a mile a minute, angled back toward the building, engaging most of them in his patter and pulling them along with him, their focus now on him rather than on Trevor. Trip turned to Jared, who walked up closer, pulled the sketchpad out of an alpha's hand and looked at the drawing. "Hey, this looks pretty good." He squatted down next to the kid to talk about his plans for the mural, and slanted a glance up at Trev's older brother. "What do you think, Trip?"

There was a definite undertone of, "Why aren't you standing up for your brother against these losers?" But handing the pad to Trip provided an opportunity for him to disengage, and the rest of the group moved along after Chad, who was still talking a mile a minute and keeping the group entertained while he herded them subtly toward the building, without them catching on to what he was doing.

Jared and Trip faced each other for a minute, Trip trying not to show how shamefaced he was. He handed the pad back to Trevor, said, "See you at home, runt," and moved after the group. Once they were nearly at the building, Chad threw up a hand, "Later, bitches!" and high-fived a few hands before drifting back to Jared and Trevor.

Jared and Chad stuck around for a little while, discussing Trev's plans for the mural, until he packed up his drawings and sketchpad, and headed home.

 

Now that Principal Beaver had decided Jared was his best choice as Wolverton High ambassador and tour guide, to help Jensen settle in, all he had to do was invent an excuse for them to meet. He hoped Jared would be willing to spend some time with Jensen. If he knew teenagers the way he figured he did, those two would be friends in no time, and Jared could ease Jensen's way into meeting other kids, and getting more comfortable with people his own age before school started.

But he had to handle this right. He couldn't just introduce them and wander off and leave them to it. Jared had a right to know a little background on the Ackles kid, it would be unfair not to prepare him, at least somewhat, for what Jensen had already been through. This wasn't the usual story of growing up were and presenting as omega as a teenager, and Jared had a right to know that.

On the other hand, Jensen had a right to his privacy. So what should Jim tell Jared? How much would it be ethical to share? He had two resources he needed to ask before he did anything, and he decided to try the most attractive one first.

"Sam?" he asked the psychiatrist when she answered his call. "Have you got a minute this afternoon? Yeah? Can I buy you lunch? I need to pick your brain a little."

 

The kid showed up for his usual afternoon session, and Jim stopped to talk to him before he disappeared into his study to deal with a mountain of paperwork.

"Hey, Jensen. I hope you don't mind. I asked a boy who's a rising senior this coming year to stop by the house this afternoon." Beaver observed casually. Despite his hopes, he didn't want to put pressure on the kid. Jensen did that wide-eyed startle reaction for a second, but settled quickly.

"Sure, whatever," he responded with a shrug. "Your house." He went back to his history, but raised his head a minute later. "Oh—do you need me to leave?"

He started shuffling papers and notebook together before Jim could tell him, "No, he's dropping by to talk to me. I just didn't want to spring him on you." He gestured toward the table top with the book and the notes, and allowed himself a grin. "You go ahead with your assignment. I'll expect that chapter worksheet before you leave today."

 

Jared was a lanky fucker, Jensen thought, as they exchanged nods. He was at least three or four inches taller than Jensen, but there was no feeling of power or intimidation rolling off him. Beta, then. Jensen relaxed a little, noting Jared seemed a little bit ill at ease.

Mara brought a thermos of milk and a plate of cookies and shooed them both out onto the porch. "Principal Beaver’s on a call right now Jared, and he may be a while. Maybe you two can take a break. You can finish up that schoolwork later, Jensen. You need brain food."

"Cookies are brain food?" Jared wanted to know, carrying the thermos and mugs.

"Mara's cookies are brain food," Jensen grinned, plate in hand. "Mara's cookies could probably cure cancer."

Mara smiled back as she left them to it.

They settled in two of the porch rockers, cookies and milk on a small table between them. Jared bit a cookie and his eyebrows went up in appreciation. "These are good!"

"Told you." Jensen's grin was smug. He sobered a little as he poured milk into both mugs. "So, did Principal Beaver really want to meet with you or did he just tap you for babysitting duty?"

Jared shrugged non-commitally and lifted the plate in Hugo's direction, where he was rocking gently in a chair on the other side of the porch. Hugo smiled and shook his head. "Looks like they've got the babysitting covered."

Jensen's gaze fell. "How much did they tell you?"

Jared took a little breath. Honesty. There needed to be trust. "Just that you were new in town and maybe in need of some company more your own age." Jared bit into a cookie and smiled at the taste, dimples popping on both cheeks, before they dimmed as he grew more serious. "He didn’t say much. That, um, you were human, that the wolves who snatched and turned you kept you prisoner for three years. That you got away on your own, got to your dad, and the two of you came here. That the alphas who took you were Fenris pack, and are probably looking for you, to take you back. So that's why," he nodded in Hugo's direction. "The guards." He sipped at his mug and waited. Jensen nodded, but said nothing. "Is there anything else I should know?"

There was a beat, then Jensen met Jared's gaze. "I guess not. What about you?"

"Not much to tell. I'm finishing up my junior year. I play a little football but, big as I am, I'm no match for alpha linebackers, so I mostly ride the bench. I run cross country, my times are pretty good. I like math, that's where my best grades are, but I like history, too. Science, eh. I like knowing how things work, but a lot of it is kind of boring."

"English?"

"I like Lit, but I'm not outstanding at it. And grammar's a bore."

Jensen's grin answered Jared's. "Amen to that."

"So what subjects do you like—and hate?"

"English lit. I used to write, a little. Haven't picked it up again here, but I might." One mouth corner quirked in irony. "Got a whole new bunch of stuff to write about.

Jared smiled in response. "You write?"

"I used to. I haven't in a long time. I like science, too. I like chemistry—making things go boom!" They both laughed, and he continued. "I guess I need to double down on biology this year—I've got a whole new species to learn about. But—hmm. I used to play baseball. I haven't been feeling like I want to do that for a while. But cross country sounds interesting."

"Yeah? I could introduce you to the coach. You could see where you'd fit on the team."

"Yeah, that’d be great, thanks. I'd like that."

The two of them talked a little longer, and then Jensen said, "I probably need to get back to that history. Beaver wants my worksheet before I leave, tonight."

"Oh yeah? What are you working on?"

"How Martin Luther's Ninety-five Theses changed the world," Jensen sounded a little glum.

"Oh, we had that this year. You want any help with it?"

"Naw. I read the material, but thanks. It’s just a bit…" Jensen shrugged

The immediate grin on Jared’s face was infectious, "Yeah, but did you consider how the world would be if the Theses didn't exist? Or if he hadn't posted them at that time?"

"What do you mean?"

Jared stood and gathered the mugs and thermos. "Come on. Bring the cookies, we'll talk it over inside."

 

Jim poked his head out before he left his study, to find the boys still talking, heads bent over the table and the history book. He walked past with a nod to them both as he headed for the kitchen, hoping Mara had kept a cookie or two for him. He couldn't help smiling, as Jared stood, stretched, and said, "I've got to be going. This was fun, though. Want to do it again?"

"What, you help me with history?" Jensen eased his back in the chair.

"History, math, whatever. Anytime, man. Summer's coming up, and I don't have a job, yet."

"Sure." Jensen sounded cheered at the thought. "I'm here almost every afternoon." He turned in the chair to face Beaver. "If that's okay with Principal Beaver?"

"Sure," Jim had claimed a handful of cookies and a glass of milk for himself. "Glad to have you, Jared." He bit a cookie, smiled at the taste, and disappeared back into his study.

"Well then, I guess I'll see you," Jared said.

"Cool. Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. See you tomorrow. Bye, Jensen."

Jensen finished off his worksheet, signed his name, and tidied up the book, notebook, and loose paper. He tapped a knuckle on the study door. "Principal Beaver? Here's my worksheet."

"Come in. Just leave it there on the desk. You have any questions you want to talk about? I'm thinking a test on the unit Friday afternoon. That sound all right with you?"

"Yessir." The kid nodded. "I'll be ready. Good night."

"'Night, boy."

He was halfway out the door when he turned. "Mr. Beaver? Thanks for asking Jared to come by. I like him."

Jim listened as he left, as Hugo met him on the porch, and the two of them walked away, and he smiled to himself. That went well.

 

Jared showed up most afternoons, and the two boys discussed and explored their way through Jensen's assignments. Jared had gone through most of the work in previous years, and offered insights Jensen wouldn't have had just learning from the book. It wasn't classroom, exactly, but it was good.

School had been out for a week or two when Jared suggested they walk over, and he could show Jensen the building, get him used to the place so it wouldn't feel so new and unfamiliar when he started classes in the fall. Beaver overheard them, and told them to come by the next afternoon. He would be working in his office and the building would be unlocked, and if anyone said anything he could back them up on having his permission to be there.

Hugo trailed them as they entered the building. Jared took his and Lee's presence—whichever of them happened to be with Jensen that day--for granted, and asked Jensen no questions about them. The corridors smelled pretty much like his old school, Jensen thought. Maybe it was just "school smell," and really, all schools smelled the same. Jared showed him the band room, the chorus room next door, the gym—both the older, smaller one used for PT classes and school day intramural games, and the new, fancy, larger one used for varsity games. They lifted a few weights, both of them attempted to rope climb, but they soon gave it up and moved on. They went by the biology and chem labs, and Jared led the way through the art room. The other classrooms were virtually all alike, no matter if the subject taught was history or foreign language—your choice of Spanish, French, or Latin. They went by the cafeteria, with the lingering scents of spaghetti and vegetable soup, on their way outside, and on to the stadium. They ran a circuit or two of the lap lanes, too lazy to race each other. Jared found a slightly under-inflated football, which they tossed back and forth for a while.

They climbed the bleachers to the top row, and Jensen surveyed the woods and fields, and what he could see of the town, from his vantage point. A tall, skinny kid with pale blond hair walked toward them as they descended the stairs, and Jared threw him a grin. "Hey, Chad."

"Hey losers," Chad responded. "What are you up to?"

"Just showing Jensen around campus." He made perfunctory introductions: "Chad, Jensen. Jensen, this is Chad."

Jensen's body language went wary. Alpha. But Chad reached out and smacked him on the shoulder. "Hi. This loser showing you around school? You gonna start here this fall?"

Jensen nodded, and managed to find his voice. "Y-yeah. Yeah, he is, and yeah, I guess I will be going here in the fall. Good to meet you."

Chad nodded, and they walked together toward an exit, Chad half-turning when Hugo followed them. Jensen introduced him. "This is Hugo. He's with me." Chad exchanged a glance with Jared, and then nodded. "Hi."

"You some kind of celebrity or something?" Chad quirked a brow and glanced over at Hugo.

"Something," Jensen agreed wryly.

"Yeah, dude. He's incognito," Jared snarked and slapped Jensen on the back. He broke into a slow jog over to the outdoor basketball court and scooped up a ball someone left out, bouncing it hard a few times. Air pressure was still good.

"You losers wanna shoot some hoops?"

And just like that the tension bubble Jensen had felt building since the alpha—no, Chad—arrived, eased and he was just any guy he'd have hung out with in his old school. The three of them spent the next hour trying to keep each other from getting the ball through the hoop, and occasionally scoring a basket of their own.

Chad showed up at Mr. Beaver's house after that almost as often as Jared did, or he met them after the schoolwork was done. They walked around town, showing Jensen the sights, telling him the history of the place in stories about growing up in Wolverton, like the time Chad stole candy and Mr. Wasserman had chased and caught him and made him sweep the store at closing for a week. Or the time Jared had made himself sick at an all-you-can-eat special at the ice cream shop, or the time Jenny MacElroy and Tim Dunn had gotten caught making out behind the theater. Or the time the pizza oven at Marco's had caught fire, or the time—

Jensen laughed so much his stomach started to ache when they were around. But more importantly he was gaining background knowledge and familiarity with the town, the people, the _pack_ , and how it all worked.

Chad didn't have a lot to offer toward Jensen's schoolwork. But he was enthusiastic about the cookies Mara usually provided. And Principal Beaver seemed fine with his dining room full of teenagers.

 

"Alan, I really think you need to come and see this house with us. It's in a town your...advisors have approved, and from all I've been able to find in my research, the school is good. There are lots of the activities that Mackenzie likes, so her preferred extracurriculars will be available. The house is really nice, a little newer than ours, and the finishes all look quite good. I haven't done the HVAC, plumbing and electrical inspections, but on the surface, from what I see, it really does look like the house for us." Donna paused, and then, her voice soft and pleading, "Please come. I need your opinion. I need to know you like it, too."

Alan sighed. He'd been hoping that his wife would see reason, and come house hunting in Wolverton, that he could put his family back together here, where Jensen and Mack would both be safe. But Donna continued to refuse. He didn't understand how he had never known how deep her fear and dislike of werewolves ran.

"Alan? Say something."

"I'll—I'll see if we can get away."

"Just you." She was quick. And Alan was stunned by the confirmation of what he'd been trying to avoid believing--that she wasn't planning on Jensen ever living in the new house. "Alan, please."

"This Saturday?" He managed to croak out over the sudden tightening of his throat.

"Yes!" Her voice brightened when it sounded like he would come.

"Text me the address, and the time you want to meet there. Are you bringing Mack?"

"Of course! She wants to see you, and naturally she has some input into whether or not we want this house."

Mack does, Alan thought. But not Jensen. His heart felt like a stone in his chest.

"So I'll see you there? And—" she paused, uncertain. "You'll tell—our guards will know where we're going? And I assume will be coming too?"

"Donna, you can speak to them yourself, tell them—"

"No. No, I think that's your job. Or, their boss, you know. That Omundson person."

"Donna!"

"I have to go, Alan. I'll see you Saturday." And the line went dead. He set the phone down and dropped his face into his hands. How had he never known how deep her aversion ran? Well, he realized, werewolves had never been a part of their lives, at least he had never known anyone who was were. And then he had to admit that maybe he had, and they just hadn't revealed themselves. He sighed, picking himself up and attempting to cope. Maybe they could talk on Saturday. He wanted to get to the bottom of why his wife could walk away and abandon their son. He doubted that that particular conversation would come easy—if he could get her to open up about it at all.

 

Jensen headed over to the school one afternoon with Jared and Chad to shoot some hoops. Jensen could tell Chad was downplaying his alpha tendencies, and he appreciated it. But the longer he knew the Murray boy and the more often he saw how Chad acted with other people, Jensen realized it wasn't just for Jensen's benefit. It's the way Chad was with everybody.

As they neared the stadium and the outdoor courts, they saw a kid sitting in the grass, working on something. Jared and Chad called out greetings, and when they got nearer, Jensen saw the kid was holding a sketchpad, and there was a box of colored pencils, a charcoal or two, and a few pastels beside him on the grass. The ground around the kid was littered with torn and discarded sketches. Jared squatted down and picked up some of the loose drawings. "Hey, Trev."

The kid squinted up at Jensen and Chad, silhouetted against the afternoon sun. "Hey, guys."

"This is Jensen," Chad bumped Jensen's shoulder with his own, in a lazy, hands-free sort of point. "He's starting school here this fall."

"Hi, Jensen."

"Hey. What's that you're working on?" Jensen peered over Jared's shoulder, and recognized the curving expanse of the stadium wall, and the colorful panel Trevor had drawn in varying renditions of a theme. "Wow. Are you gonna paint the whole wall?"

"Nah," the kid chuckled. "Just one panel, and I get to pick."

Jensen was impressed. "Wow."

"Yeah. I'm thinking this one, second from the end. What do you guys think?"

They discussed the merits of each of the panels, and wound up agreeing Trev had picked the best one, especially best to show off his design concept. He sorted through his sketches till he found a couple that got his idea across and spread them out for them to look at.

The boys were silent as they studied the sketches. Then Chad said, "Wow. I knew you were talented, dude, but this is some pretty awesome stuff." Jensen murmured agreement. Even in this rough stage Trev’s designs had an elegance and boldness that seemed to jump off the page.

"Too bad you couldn’t do all the panels Trev," Jared contended. "These are great."

"You got anybody helping you with this?" Jensen wanted to know.

"Nah. I didn't want to ask another art student." He made a wry face. "Everybody's got their own ideas, and I'm kind of set on my own."

"I get that," Jensen nodded. "But hey, I've done a little painting—billboard and poster stuff for my old team. I'd be willing to do the labor and stick to your design, if you needed an extra hand."

Trevor regarded him, weighing possible pros and cons of the offer. "Okay, yeah. Maybe," he conceded. "I still have to finalize this and set up an outline and grid, and get the design on the wall before the painting starts. Can I give you a call?" He pulled his phone from his backpack, poised to key in Jensen's number.

"I'm—me and my dad are staying at Ms. Abbott's right now," he told Trevor. "You know, until we find a house in town. You can reach me there."

He glanced at Jared and Chad, who had wandered on toward the court and were playing one-on-one. He muttered, mostly to himself, "Which reminds me, I need a phone."

"What happened to yours?" Trevor's question was just idle conversation, but Jensen swallowed, and took a breath.

"Lost it," he said, and rose to stand. "Good to meet you, Trevor. I'm gonna..." he inclined his head toward the basketball court. "Want to come play?"

Trev grinned in response, but shook his head. "Thanks, but I gotta get home. Nice to meet you, Jensen. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah," Jensen grinned back. "See you," and trotted toward the court.

 

Alan called the number Omundson had given him, and asked if the alpha had a few minutes for him. "Sure. I'm in all afternoon today."

When Alan arrived, he found Mayor Rhodes in his office, discussing city ordinances. She said hello and started to stand. "We can finish this later."

"No." He waved her back to her seat. "This won't take but a minute. I'm sorry to interrupt."

"Not really interrupting," Tim smiled wryly. "This is an ongoing discussion." Rhodes smothered a grin as he asked, "What can I help you with?"

Alan took a breath. He wasn't actually sure what help he could ask for, but he suspected the local pack wasn't going to be much help with his problem.

"Donna's found a house," he told them. "In Edenville." There was a moment of silence, and then Rhodes spoke.

"So, not in Wolverton, then."

"No." Everyone in the room was aware why Alan's wife was house hunting somewhere else. And he compounded the knowledge. "She's. There's not a bedroom for Jensen."

In spite of his determination to remain stoic, Alan's face crumpled, and his voice faltered. He hid his face in both hands, and Mayor Rhodes laid a firm and comforting hand on his shoulder for a moment.

He got himself under control, sent a grateful glance toward the mayor, took a deep breath and said, in a voice full of confusion and disappointment, "She's never been like this. I never had any idea."

Neither Tim nor the mayor commented, and Alan sat up a little straighter. "I'm going to talk to her this weekend. See if I can get to the bottom of this, and _fix this._ Fix my family."

Omundson's voice was full of compassion, if not encouragement. "I hope you succeed, Alan. I wish you well."

"Don't worry about Jensen," Rhodes said. "We'll keep an eye on him. And if he doesn't want to stay at Ms. Abbott's," she suggested, "I'll bet Jim wouldn't mind at all if Jensen stayed with him while you're gone."

Alan thanked them. "I'll ask him," he said. "First I have to tell him his mother doesn't want me to bring him with me."

 

Jensen said he'd be fine by himself at Ms. Abbott's. He hugged his dad early Saturday morning before Alan got into the car. "Give Mack a hug for me. Tell her to call me." His new number was in Alan's phone. Alan nodded and held him extra tight for just a few seconds, climbed in and drove away.

Jensen watched him go, wavering between feeling free and independent of parental supervision, and bereft at being without family. He had given a lot of thought to his mom's previously unsuspected attitude about werewolves. Of course, it had never really come up before— Before Jensen was taken. He honestly couldn't remember meeting anyone in person who was were while he was growing up. Yeah, some movie and TV characters, but not a real life, flesh and blood werewolf. Though he guessed there could have been someone, or several someones. They might have just kept it to themselves. He wondered, not for the first time, if Mom had had some encounter with wolves that had scared her, had left a lasting impression.

Dad's car was out of sight and the dust had settled when Jensen shook off his bout of introspection. He blew out a ragged breath and turned toward Mr. Beaver's house. There was a unit of calc that had been giving him trouble. He'd better go figure that out.

Hugo fell in beside the kid, a quiet, solid source of support. Hugo didn't have any knowledge of Mrs. Ackles, and he understood that some people just couldn't get over their prejudices. But the kid didn't deserve to be shunned and avoided like this. Hugo's mom still expected all her kids home for holiday dinners, and made a fuss over all of them. He couldn't understand a mother who rejected her child.

 

Sheriff Olsson was just leaving, lingering on the front steps to exchange a few last words with Mr. Beaver.

"And you have witnesses that they've actually been on school grounds? During class time?"

Beaver nodded. "The Padalecki boy, and a couple of others—I'll get you the names, if you want."

"Yeah, text me the list, when you get a chance."

"Sure thing."

The sheriff turned to go, and caught sight of Jensen and Hugo. He nodded at Hugo and smiled at Jensen. "Hey. Jensen, right? How are you settling in?"

"Fine," Jensen answered, cutting his gaze to the principal. "If Mr. Beaver doesn't work me to death with schoolwork."

Beaver snorted and muttered something rude, and Olsson grinned. "Been there, done that, kid. He’s tortured a lot of us here over the years.” With a big grin the sheriff nodded and touched his hat, “Well, I'll leave you to it, then."

 

The calc assignment was done, and Jensen was reading through the next history assignment when Beaver left his office. He stopped by the table where Jensen usually did his work. "Has anybody told you anything about how the packs were affected by the world wars? Or the Great Depression? Viet Nam?"

"No sir." He had never considered that historical events might have had a different influence on werewolves, and their packs.

"You got plans for supper?"

"Just—back to Ms. Abbotts."

"Stay," Beaver invited.

"You sure it's okay with Mara?"

"Oh, she'll love the chance to feed a teenager. Hugo too. You go ask him? And I'll tell her."

 

It was just the first of a series of conversations about werewolves in history, how packs came out of the forests to live on the outskirts of human settlements, drawn by warmth and light of the fire and becoming part of the community, a wider pack. How they became citizens in behavior and in name. And, too, those times when humans discovered werewolves among them, how they were driven out, hunted, or taken prisoner and tortured and executed in the very towns and villages they had helped to build, by neighbors they had believed to be friends.

How wolves had kept their nature a secret when living among humans, and that many had chafed at the necessity, and had withdrawn from human towns and settlements, had created and built their own, modeled somewhere between the human civic example and the wild packs of their ancestors.

There was system, custom, and ceremony in werewolves' history, and living apart from humans had given wolves the opportunity to keep those customs, amend and change the ways that no longer benefited the way of life of towns and villages. But also the chance to practice and honor their history.

The usually taciturn Hugo had become quite animated as he joined in the discussion that first supper, showing Jensen a whole other side to the big alpha. After that he, or Lee, whoever was present during the following conversations, contributed their own knowledge and memories. Jared, and even Chad, joined the others at the table when they were present, either picking up stories they hadn't heard before, or adding bits of different versions they knew to the history being told. A lot of the talks ran late into the night, like that first time, when Beaver thought it was foolish and a bit unkind to send Jensen back to the bed and boarding house to an empty room when there were bedrooms made up but unoccupied in his house. So Jensen, and his guards, grew used to staying over, at least some of the time.

 

Alan returned from his first house hunt with Donna and Mack still troubled by his wife's refusal to accept Jensen back into the family. Alan didn't say much about his discussion with Donna about Jensen, about werewolves in general. She didn't want to talk about it, changed the subject, and when he tried to persist she got angry and blew up at him.

Mackenzie avoided them, flinching when their voices rose, sidling out of the room, eyes wide, head down. Donna didn't seem to notice, wrapped firm in her righteous principles, but Alan couldn't bear to see the stress put on Mack by their arguing. So he stopped. He wasn't finding answers anyway. Maybe there was another way. He backed off, while he was there, and tried to get back to normal.

Mack clung to him when he left. "I wish you didn't have to go, Daddy."

"I know, baby. But Jensen needs me, too."

She nodded, face buried against his shoulder. "I miss him. I want him back. I want our family back, the way we're supposed to be." She raised a teary face. "I hate her. Why is she being this way?"

"I don't know. But if I find out, I'll let you know. And I'm not giving up, I'm going to see what I can do about it. This isn't like your mother." He wiped away the tears with a broad thumb. "Try and be nice to her," he told her. "She's not happy, either, and she needs somebody to be there for her." He kissed her on the forehead and stepped back. She nodded, and he looked up to where his wife stood on the porch. He smiled and sent her a little wave before getting into the car and driving away.

When he got back to Wolverton, he filled Jensen in on everything Mack had said she had going on in her life, and all the things he'd promised her he'd tell Jensen. Jensen took it all in with an occasional grin, even a chuckle or two. Donna hadn't sent Jensen any messages. And Jensen didn't ask. He was devastated on some level, of course. But he felt like somehow he deserved it, because he was a freak now, and not even his mother could love a freak. Alan didn't know what to do. He hadn't found a house for him and Jensen in town. He stopped looking when Donna made plain she wouldn't be coming to Wolverton. He and Jensen were still living at Ms. Abbott's bed and boarding house. He was working remotely from their bedroom, and his boss was fine with that, as long as he got the job done.

Summer was flying past, Jensen continued to complete assignments and pass tests. He had moved up nearly two whole grades in the weeks since he'd been studying at Mr. Beaver's. If that kept up, he might even earn placement in the class he'd been supposed to graduate with. Aside from schoolwork, Jensen continued to spend days with Jared and Chad, and to help Trevor with the mural. Sometimes Chad and Jared helped, as well, at least until they started goofing around and Trev got upset and worried they were going to mess up his design, and shooed them away.

Jared's mom asked him to bring Jensen home for dinner—Alan, too. They felt welcome immediately. Mr. Padalecki, "Call me Gerry," drafted Alan to help with the kebabs and racks of ribs on the grill, discussing teenaged sons, and trends in housing prices and values, hiring contractors for repairs and remodeling, and types of homeowners' insurance.

Mrs. Padalecki—"It's Sherri, hon"—had both Jared and Jensen, plus Lee, when he wasn't hanging around the grill with the dads, ferrying plates, flatware and glasses from the kitchen to the table on the deck, along with sides of potato salad, green beans and baked beans, trays of pickles and raw vegetables, ears of corn for the grill, a basket of bread, a big bowl of chips, chilled bottles of beer and cans of soda and a big pitcher of iced tea. A huge stack of paper napkins took up the remaining space on the table's surface, and they all sat down to eat. Talk and laughter lasted well after homemade ice cream and chocolate layer cake, and coffee, for those who wanted it. Goodbyes were cheerful, with promises to come again.

"Nice people," Alan said, on their walk back to Ms. Abbott's.

"Yeah," Jensen answered. "Easy to see how Jared turned out so cool."

 

  
****

 


	5. Chapter 5

   

 

Sherri Padalecki made it clear that Jensen was welcome in their home anytime, so on some of the hotter days, he hung out with Jared and Chad in the basement, playing video games that were new to him, and a few old ones he was familiar with, and raiding the fridge. Jared's mom didn't mind. The basement was cool—not the decor, which was a little shabby standard rec room, but when the sun was blazing outside, the Padaleckis' basement was a cool haven to retreat to. But when the shadows lengthened and the July heat slackened in the late afternoons, most days found Jensen at the stadium, working on Trevor's mural.

"You planning on an art career, Trev?" Jensen was cutting in the edges of hill and sky with a brush, careful and neat.

"I'd like to. My folks don't really think much of it, I think they'd rather I was an accountant, or something. But art is what I love." Trevor's focus was on wielding his own brush higher on the sketched hill, standing on the ladder. "I'm planning to major in art at college. I want to tour Europe, visit the museums: the British Museum of Modern art and the National Gallery, the Louvre, the Uffizi Gallery, museums in different countries, each one famous for a style of art." He stroked another careful brushful of green onto the wall. "Imagine a whole summer immersed in all those images—sculpture too, though I doubt I'll ever have a talent for three-dimensional creations."

He continued as he painted, detailing his favorite works by various artists, obviously seeing more in pictures on a wall than Jensen himself had ever seen, or even thought about. Jensen smiled as he worked, enjoying Trev's enthusiasm, and encouraging him with a question or comment now and then.

 

As Jensen spent more time with his new friends, he was also distancing himself from his dad. Alan understood it was normal for kids Jensen's age to reach out to peers, rather than parents. But he couldn't help the regret for the time that was stolen from them.

Alan had bought the house Donna showed him. It was a nice house, and Alan had an eye on the separate garage. With a little elbow grease and a few added dormers and windows, the attic area could be converted into a nice little bachelor pad for when Jensen came to visit. Of course he kept those plans to himself for now, but all in all, Edenville seemed like a nice place, actually a small city, and considerably larger than Wolverton. Tim had assured him there was a sizeable number of wolves there, well integrated into the population. They would all help keep an eye on Mackenzie, while refraining from revealing themselves to Donna.

On Tim's advice, Alan didn't advertise the house he owned for sale. It was prudent, Omundson said, not to appear to be changing residence before they were actually ready to move, in case Fenris pack was watching, and followed them to the new place. Plans to move went ahead, largely orchestrated by Tim and his men. Things were packed and moved in increments, using appliance and furniture delivery trucks, painters' and plumbers' vans, and the ruse of remodeling the house to "get rid of old furniture" to make room for the new.

Alan felt guilty and upset that such strategies had to be in place. The Fenris alphas had destroyed his family's lives when they had taken Jensen. Not only had they ripped him away from his family, school, and the childhood that still had been his, but they'd torn a part of their family away, left a hole that, at least in Donna's case, could never be mended. He watched his son, tall and broad-shouldered and so close to being an adult, walk away with Lee at his side. Lee and Hugo were guards, yes, but also becoming friends, and Alan felt his own usefulness in Jensen's life fading. Between the alpha guards, Principal Beaver, and even Tim, Jensen was surrounded with a lot of father figures, all of whom had a better handle on how Jensen was supposed to live now in the world, as wolf, as were.

 

Jensen had been on contraceptives and suppressants for a few weeks, still adjusting and getting used to the hormonal balancing. Dr. Speight had him come in for a checkup. While he was in the waiting room, Jensen overheard part of a conversation between two other omegas also in the waiting room. One of them was sobbing, and through the garbled words, Jensen understood that the omega was devastated at a diagnosis of an untreatable condition. The only cure was a hysterectomy. The omega was distraught, despite the comfort offered by his companion. Jensen's name was called, though, before he was able to hear any more.

His mind was in turmoil. Doc Speight had told him there was no permanent way to make sure he would never have heats, or get pregnant. He needed to know why the doc didn't tell him about this procedure. When the doctor smiled and asked, "So, how have you been, Jensen?"

What Jensen said was, "Can I get a hysterectomy?"

Speight looked poleaxed, so much so that he sank into the nearest chair while he stared at Jensen. "Why on earth would you ask that?"

"Is it possible?" Jensen pressed.

"No." The response was unequivocal. And then, "That procedure is only done as a last resort, to save the life of someone whose organs are diseased, or damaged, and beyond saving."

"But it can be done," Jensen insisted. "You can remove everything—I can live without heats, without the threat of pregnancy."

"Jensen." Speight cut him short. "You are doing that, right now. You have the contraceptive implant—it's 99% effective in preventing pregnancy. And your heat suppressants work, once we find the right dosage. You can avoid heats and decide when and if you want to get pregnant."

"What happens if I can't get to a doctor when my implant runs out? What if I lose my pills—what if somebody takes them away from me?"

"Jensen, you are so overreacting--"

Jensen was still on his feet, rocking a few times before he began pacing the width of the small exam room and back. "Have you been kidnapped?" he demanded. "Raped? Impregnated against your will, over and over again?"

"Jensen—" the doctor tried to calm the young omega.

"Have you?"

"No, Jensen, of course not."

"No. So how do you have any idea what that's like? What was done to me? You have _no idea_ what I would do to stop that ever happening to me again." He stopped pacing, stepped closer and actually loomed a little over the seated beta. "Tell me how I can have this done!"

Speight took a breath, calmed himself, and scooting his chair back a few inches, stood up. Jensen was taller, but the doctor had a beta's calm demeanor and sense of perspective. He could see the kid was starting to tremble, and he moved slowly and put a hand on his shoulder, turning him toward the exam table and getting him to sit down.

"Jensen, I can't know first-hand what was done to you. But I do know what you went through. I know what it's cost you to fight your way back to being the person you are now, and watching you, knowing you, is an honor, believe me. I know how much you want this, and, almost, I wish I could make it possible."

He stepped away and got a cup of water for the boy, put it in his trembling hand.

"But I can't. Hysterectomy is reserved for medical reasons. And there are laws."

The kid looked up at that, a question in his expression.

"Not every alpha is a good guy. You're well aware of this."

There was a slight snort of agreement, and Speight went on. "Sometimes, for example, when a couple mates early, as they mature, they grow apart. Mates are for life, you know." He paused, and Jensen nodded. "But if an omega becomes infertile, for any reason, the mate bond can be broken."

The trembling had stopped now, as Jensen listened to the doctor. "And some unscrupulous alphas have used that 'for any reason' to justify sterilizing an omega they were tired of, in order to claim a newer, younger model."

Jensen's features twisted in disgust. "That's—"

"Horrible, unfair, and now, against the law. That's why the procedure can _only_ be done for medical reasons, for conditions that can't be treated or cured by other means."

Jensen finished his water, and heaved a big sigh.

"I'm sorry, kiddo. I know it stinks, in your case. But that's where we are."

The boy nodded. "Okay. Thanks for telling me. I had to ask."

"I know." Speight clapped him on the shoulder and then pulled the stethoscope from where it was draped around his neck. "You okay enough now we can check you over?"

 

Alan left a couple of days a week, at first, to help Donna and Mack unpack and set up the house. A few times, he stayed overnight, or two nights. But he returned feeling guilt at having left Jensen alone. Once back in Wolverton, he had to admit he felt out of place—he was the only human in town, or the only one he knew of. He missed his girls. He didn't seem able to settle. Telecommuting for the job was working fine, but he couldn't seem to keep his mind on work. He talked to Donna and Mack on the phone, and he knew Mack called Jensen sometimes to catch up, and she told him about the new house, the new school she'd be starting. She talked to Alan about those things, too. Donna said she missed Alan and wished he was with them. She asked how Jensen was doing, but she didn't ask to speak with their son. Alan hated to admit it but he suspected she was trying to gauge how much less dependent he was becoming on his dad, rather than how Jensen himself was doing.

Jensen spent most of his time with Jared, sometimes Chad and Jared, and often with Trevor. He worked with Trevor on painting the mural on the stadium wall, and sometimes Jared and Chad helped, too. Jensen was still uncomfortable, even fearful, of being alone. Lee and Hugo still guarded him, from more of a distance, and sometimes Jensen sought them out to talk, and seemed to find some reassurance and a sense of security in their presence. And whenever Alan was out of town, he stayed with Jim Beaver. Alan talked to the principal, and was assured that Jensen wasn't imposing. He'd been asked to stay, and he was welcome whenever he wanted to come.

 

Back from a weekend at the new house, and telling Jensen about installing shelving in the garage, Alan caught a wistful expression on Jensen's face, quickly hidden.

"Jensen? Would you—do you want to see the new house?"

The kid's features shifted unreadably for a second, before the wistful look was back.

"Nah, it’s okay," he said, and then, reluctantly, "but—before the old house is gone." His eyes flickered a pleading look. "Is my old room still there? Has Mom—did she get rid of all my old stuff?"

Alan sighed, and pulled his kid in with an arm around his shoulders, kissed the top of his head. "Your Mom," he told him. "Made a shrine out of your room. She dusted, and we were allowed to go in, if we wanted. But she didn't want us messing with your things, or taking things from the room."

Jensen searched his face. "Is it still there?"

"As far as I know," Alan told him. "I don't think she's packed it up, or anything. Tell you what, I can call her, and see. You want me to do that?"

Jensen leaned a little heavier against him before pulling away. "I thought about it, so much. So often. I'd see it in my mind. It meant—safety. I'd go away, go back there, so I didn't have to think—" His voice choked a little, and he stopped, took a breath. "I'd... I'd really like to see it again before the house is gone, if I could. And—if they're still there, there are some things I'd like to have."

When Alan started to speak, Jensen went on, "Yeah, I know. Kid stuff. But it meant a lot to me. And now," he sniffed, and wiped at the wetness on his face. "I'd just like to have a few minutes there. For the last time." He looked up then at his dad. "Sometime when Mom and Mack are at the new place."

There was a twinge in Alan's heart, and he nodded. "I get it. I'll call her, tell her to leave it alone, whatever state it's in." Alan reached for him again, another quick hug, and release. "And I'll get hold of Tim, and ask him about you making a quick visit. He's been pretty insistent about keeping things looking normal while Mom and Mack pack up and move. I'll tell him how important it is to you, and maybe we can smuggle you in for a few minutes under a hat and some shades." He grinned a little. "Okay?"

And Jensen gave him a lopsided grin back. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Dad."

Beaver was very impressed at the progress Jensen made over the summer. The school year began in a week, and Jensen would be starting his senior year—his original graduating class. Jensen was proud of himself, his hard work, and what he'd managed to achieve, with the help and guidance of Beaver himself, Jared, Lee, Hugo, and even Chad. He was eager for school—but he was anxious, too. He really didn't know how things were going to go in a new school, with all new people. And add to that, the social ranking of alphas, betas, and omegas that he had no experience with and no real idea how to negotiate in a public setting. He was trying really hard not to freak out, and he was glad his Dad seemed to be sticking around, at least for the first week or so of school. He needed the moral support.

 

"Well really, I hadn't given it much thought at all. I was just going to call someone from a charity to come pack it all up. It's just toys and boy's things..." Alan heard the catch in his wife's voice, but he allowed her to maintain the indifferent facade.

"Leave it alone," he told her. "You can have somebody remove it after the weekend." She didn't ask why.

Alan had talked to Tim, who didn't seem especially sympathetic with Jensen's desire to see his home, his room, one more time before it was sold to strangers. But Omundson took another look at the father's face, and conceded the point. If they were unobtrusive and careful, there shouldn't be a problem.

Lee drove the exterminator's van, and he, Alan, and Jensen all wore uniforms and hats. Lee went to "inspect" the exterior of the house, the foundations, and Alan and Jensen went inside, ostensibly to check the basement.

Jensen stopped just inside the door and Alan had to brush past him to get into the room and get the door closed. The living room was empty. The entertainment center with the TV, the shelves of movies and games, was gone. Alan's recliner, the sofa where Jensen sprawled to play video games, the coffee table where he and his friends had snacks, and Jensen and Mack did their homework, Donna's favorite armchair, with the standing lamp that shed a soft glow to read by—all gone. Even the dog bed in the corner. The dining room through the French doors was empty, too, and the table where they all dropped their keys, the mail, and notes for each other, was missing from the hall. The row of hooks mounted to a sturdy oak board, for coats and hats and scarves—all that was left were a few nail holes in the drywall.

Jensen took it all in, then moved toward the kitchen, where the counters were clean and bare, and the fridge was unplugged and quiet. The boy lifted the curtain on the half-glassed back door and peered out into the back yard, with its slope at the end where they had sledded in winter, where the soccer goal had stood, and the trampoline. There were a few professionally tended flowers in neat beds, but no real signs of habitation. Alan stood back and let his son process, and finally, Jensen turned down the hall toward the bedroom that had been his since he was brought home from the hospital as an infant.

The door was shut, and he reached out and turned the knob, breathing out in a half-sob when he saw his familiar things in their usual places, all around the room.

"Take your time, son," Alan gripped his shoulder briefly, and then turned to go back to wait in the kitchen.

The same old Star Wars coverlet dressed the bed, the bookshelf headboard held his miniature At-At walker, his Optimus Prime Transformer, and a dozen scruffy paperback books. He went through them, glad to see them and welcoming how familiar they felt in his hands. But a glance at the titles assured him that he didn't need to keep any of them. He opened the nightstand drawer and made a face at the years-old opened bag of Skittles and half-eaten rolls of Lifesavers, a half-empty pack of gum, along with a few baseball cards, a note from Shelley Moore he'd been thrilled to find pushed through the slots in his locker door. He grinned a little and shrugged as he dropped the note in his wastebasket.

Pens, a mechanical pencil, a half-worked book of crossword puzzles. And nothing else. He slipped off the bed and knelt to look under the bed. Boxes of comics—he didn't want them, but somebody might. He pulled those out and left them on the bed. The dresser drawers held outgrown t-shirts, jeans, sweats, underwear and socks, and nothing else. Shirts and dress pants and jackets hung in his closet. A couple of baseball bats leaned in the corner, his glove on top of them. He knelt again, pushing aside the pairs of dress shoes, snow boots, and sneakers to pull out a small cardboard trunk. He lifted its lid, and inside was a thin stack of papers—short stories he had begun and abandoned, a half-dozen guitar picks, a couple of books of matches, and a smaller cardboard box. Inside it were seven green plastic army men, molded in different poses, carrying different weapons. There were a few loose coins—Canadian, German, from Bobby Unger's summer visit to relatives in Nurnberg, and Mexican, from Herve's stay with his grandparents. There were a few birthday cards, from his parents, from Mack, from his grandmother. He left everything in the trunk, stood and backed out of the closet and tucked the trunk under his arm. He pushed the closet door shut and reached into the corner of the room and picked up his guitar. A birthday present a couple of months before he was taken, he'd not had a chance to learn to play it. It was the only other thing he wanted to keep.

He took a last glance around the room where he'd grown up, secure in the midst of his family, then reached to the headboard and picked up Optimus Prime and dropped him into the trunk with the other things. Then he turned around and walked away. Lee wrapped the guitar in a blanket so its outline wasn't recognizeable, and carried it out to the van. Alan took the trunk, and they left the house, Alan testing the lock when he closed the door. Jensen didn't look back as they drove away.

 

School started. Jared came by Ms. Abbott's the first day and walked with Jensen to school. He was already registered and signed up for classes, thanks to Mr. Beaver, so he headed off to his first class, hoping everything would go okay. It went pretty well.

For the most part, the classwork was hard enough to be challenging, but not dauntingly difficult. Jensen participated, a little, in class. Otherwise, he kept his head down, avoided eye contact, and tried to go unnoticed. He was an attractive kid, though, and had the novelty of being new, so the other students did notice him. Most of them had heard at least part of his history, so while they were friendly, for the most part, they were understanding enough to not push him to be outgoing.

The senior alphas noticed him too, though they didn't approach or try to talk to him, though they did point him out to the handful of Sons who hung out with them outside of school. Jared, Jim, and Chad all kept an eye on him during school hours. Afterward, Jensen met Trevor at the stadium almost every day to work on the mural. Jared and Chad usually hung out with them, too.

The Sons made note that the two omegas were there most days, and started coming by with some of the senior alphas to tease and intimidate them. Though that didn't happen as much when Jared or Jared and Chad were there. Lee and Hugo kept a sharp eye on the Sons, and reported their behavior to Tim, and to Ty, and Beaver.

 

Tim asked Alan to drop by his office one afternoon for a talk. Mayor Rhodes, Dr. Ferris, and Jim Beaver were already there when Alan arrived, and he took the offered seat with some apprehension.

"Alan, it's good to see you," Tim said. "Jim's been telling us how well Jensen's adjusting in school. He seems to be settling in, making friends. Right, Jim?"

Beaver nodded, met Alan eye to eye. "He's doing real well," he told Jensen's father. "He seems to be making some friends, coming out of his shell a little bit. I think school's really good for him right now."

"He's probably glad to be in a school environment," Kim added. "Kids his own age, less dependent on the grown-ups in his life."

"Jensen's had some rough circumstances," Alan was quick to defend Jensen. "It's understandable he depends on adults, and people who are safe."

Kim nodded agreement, and Omundson said, "It is completely understandable, of course. But at the same time, he's at the age where his instincts are to pull away from the adults in his life, and seek the company of peers."

"It is usually the time where kids are banding together against the adults," Jim said. "Poking at boundaries, pushing their limits." He shot a wry look at Alan. "Being little shits, basically.”

Alan grinned in spite of himself, and gave a nod to the principal's true assessment.

Jim’s expression grew more serious as he continued, “But more importantly, there are group runs on full moons, get togethers where the kids shed their skins and take their other forms, create and strengthen bonds with their pack that will last a lifetime."

Ferris picked up where Beaver stopped. "So far Jensen’s avoided that. Oh, apparently he’s friendly enough on the surface, but scratch that surface, and he’s isolated himself, as a human living among werewolves, denying his nature, rather than exploring and learning what it means to be were."

"But whether he likes it or not," Omundson said. "He needs his pack to survive. His wolf needs it. We're all aware of what a long way he’s come. But he needs to be pushed just a little bit further, encouraged to continue to grow and explore his wolf, because it’s going to affect the rest of his life as a were."

Alan’s eyes grew wide and a little stricken. Kim heard his breathing go shallow on the edge of panic and reached over and patted his hand.

"What we're suggesting, Alan," Kim's voice was gentle, persuasive. "Is that, as long as you've been away from your wife and daughter, and maybe now that Jensen is becoming more independent, it's time to encourage that."

" You've been the best support any parent could possibly be, under very difficult circumstances," Dr. Ferris said. "But Jensen needs to grow and develop as a werewolf, and we believe it's time for you to leave him to it. For you to go and be with the rest of your family."

This was not what he had expected. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it hadn't been marching orders. "Are...you asking me to leave town? Abandon my son?"

"Not at all," Tim was quick to insist. "You wouldn't be abandoning him, just...giving him some room to grow. To learn to stand on his own two feet."

"He's been through so much—" tears started in his eyes when he contemplated even for a minute leaving Jensen on his own. "His mother... he isn't welcome at home, where he belongs, and I don't understand her. I mean to get to the bottom of that. But the truth is, he can't come home, at least, not yet. And I don't—" He had leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Now he sat back and looked in each of their faces. "He was missing so long. I missed so much time with him. I need to make that up. I need to be with him."

"But your girls, your wife and daughter. You need them too. And they need you, obviously," Tim stated the obvious.

Alan threw up his hands in frustration. "I don't know what to do."

Dr. Ferris leaned toward him, and spoke in that gentle voice. "We'll take care of Jensen," she promised. "He needs to be with us, now."

Beaver spoke, a surety in his voice that Alan couldn't ignore. "Jensen knows nothing about _being_ a werewolf. We've spent the summer discussing history and culture, but he's taking it all in as an outsider." He leaned forward, speaking straight with Alan. "Jensen can't afford to be an outsider, with us. He needs to find out about the were part of _himself_ , and what that's like, what it all means." He took a breath, deciding if he should say the next part. "And frankly, as long as you're around, he's never going to let go of the human boy he was, that you remember, enough to find and explore the were he is now."

They assured him that he would always be welcome in Wolverton—any of Jensen's family could come and visit anytime. But it was obvious Jensen was concentrating on his schoolwork, acclimating to his new reality, and learning to depend on his pack. Alan couldn't help with that. Maybe his role in this new part of Jensen's life, aside from continued support and frequent visits, was done. It was hard to hear, but after some thought, he grudgingly admitted they were probably right. But in the end, they all agreed that it should be Jensen's decision when he was ready for his dad to leave. Alan wouldn't let his son believe his father was abandoning him.

 

Alan let the subject percolate until after supper the next day, when he suggested he and Jensen take a stroll around town. Hugo followed at a discreet distance as the sun crept toward the treetops and the early fall afternoon light fell long and yellow over the town.

"Jim says you're doing really well in school," Alan started the conversation. "He's impressed, and proud of the work you've done to catch up. He says you're getting along pretty well with your classmates, too."

Jensen side-eyed him, aware this was more than a casual stroll and idle chat. He nodded, and waited for his dad to go on. "He thinks maybe it's time you concentrated more on fitting into the community, learning about—well, being a werewolf."

"Are you serious? Learn how to be a werewolf? How am I going to be anything else?" Jensen scoffed.

"Well, I'm sure there are things you don't know, haven't experienced yet." He peered at his son, noting the rising blush. "Or haven't figured out what you are experiencing."

"Okay, sure. I could maybe use a course in Werewolf 101," Jensen snarked. But Alan could see there was some truth there, along with the snark.

"Beaver, Tim, Mayor Rhodes, and Dr. Ferris, too—they all think maybe it's time you immersed yourself in local culture, and took a step or two away from what you know as a human kid," Alan told him, and waited for Jensen to process what he'd said.

Jensen slowed, but then picked up the pace again. "And Mom and Mack miss you. They need you at home," he stated the obvious. "So, maybe it's time for you to go, is that it?"

Alan opened his mouth to reply, but the words didn't come. He couldn't meet his son's eyes, so he nodded, and waited for the boy's reaction. Jensen bit on the inside of his lip, looking like he was chewing the information. He shot a glance at Alan, and nodded. "Yeah, I can see that. It makes sense."

"Really?" Alan wanted to know. "You're not just saying that because you think I want to go?"

"I know you want to go," Jensen answered. "You need to go. Mom and Mack need you, they do. And—" he blew out a breath and firmed his jaw. "It is time I stopped hiding and cringing and trying to avoid the part of me that's not human anymore." He stopped walking and turned to face his dad. "It's got to happen sometime," he said. "I've just gotten so used to you being here, leaning on you, feeling like you're always going to be there. I don’t want to lose that."

Alan reached and scooped him in. "I _am_ always going to be here," he said, voice as fierce as his embrace. "Anytime you need me. I'll be just a phone call away, I promise. And I’ll still visit. A lot."

Jensen nodded, brushed a hand under his nose and sniffed, patted Alan's back, and stepped back to put some distance between them.

"So when were you thinking of leaving?"

"Maybe next week," Alan suggested, watching Jensen's reaction carefully. He seemed fine with it. "Jim wants you to move in with him."

"He's been so kind already. I don't want him to think he has to take me on permanently. I can stay at Ms. Abbott's."

Alan shook his head. "No, son. He really wants you to live there. He likes having you around, and he likes having your friends come by. He enjoys the discussions you get into, and he likes being able to join in. He's being honest about wanting you to come."

Jensen thought for a few minutes. "Ms. Abbott's place is nice."

Alan agreed. "And she's a good cook. But Jim's place is a home," he said.

"And, don't tell Ms. A, but Mara's cooking is better!"

They exchanged a grin, having agreed on several things at once. They kept walking as the light softened to twilight, and the first of the fireflies came out.

 

Alan spent the week getting Jensen settled at Jim's, and getting video chat, texting, every sort of communication available set up in his room. Alan wasn't all that surprised to discover that Jim's house was wired, and he offered to kick in on part of the costs. He was surprised, and gratified, when Jim agreed, though the principal wouldn't accept money for room and board. "He's to think of this as home." He grinned at Jensen when told Alan, "And damn if he doesn’t add some life to the old house. Mara’s cooking has even kicked up a notch with him here. He's more than welcome, as long as he doesn't throw keggers till all hours of the night, or bring sex partners into the house."

Jensen blanched, and left the room abruptly without saying anything.

"Aw, balls." Jim's face creased in regret over his slip. "Should I go after him?"

Alan shook his head. "He knows you didn't mean it. He'll be okay."

 

The day had arrived, Alan's bag was already in the car. Jensen thanked his dad for helping him, from that first call. He reminded Alan he was always welcome, the whole family was welcome anytime they wanted to visit, and Jim reassured both of them that was true, would always be true. Jensen would miss his dad, but they'd set up Jensen's communications center, and Jensen reminded Alan not to waste any time doing the same in the new house, so he could keep in touch with the whole family. He hugged his dad and told him to go home, and protect Mom and Mack. Alan clung to him for just a minute, finding it hard to let go.

"Call me." It was an instruction, not a request. "Tomorrow after school, or evening." Jensen grinned and nodded. "I mean it. Don't make me come back here." It was a mock-threat, and Alan hugged harder for just a second, then stepped away and got into the car.

 

Jared's mom asked both Jensen and Jim over for dinner. During the meal, the subject of the autumn equinox came up, and they started talking about their plans. Jensen had never heard of the equinox, and he wanted to know what it was about.

"It's a celebration of the end of summer," Sherri told him. "Rejoicing in the last of the warm sunny days, heading into harvest time before the long cold winter."

"Everybody shifts at once," Jared explained, excitedly. "And we run together. I mean, running with friends, or even by yourself is fun. But a pack run at the equinox?" The grin on his face was wide and joyful. "There's nothing like it."

"If you don't have other plans," Sherri suggested, "Why don't you two come run with us? It'll be more fun in a group."

Jim smiled, and looked like he was considering it. Jensen's discomfort was apparent, but he didn't say anything, either yes or no. Jim just said, "We'll see."

Jim mentioned the boy's reluctance to Samantha, who brought up the subject at their next appointment. “Jensen, I want to talk a little bit about your shifting, how often you’ve shifted and how comfortable you are in your other skin. Want to tell me a little about it?” Jensen sat still and silent for a few minutes, before finally speaking.

"When I was bitten, I didn't know what it meant. I had no real knowledge of werewolves in my life, you know? I mean, theoretically I was aware that such beings existed, somewhere, probably. But I'd never heard of any, and it's not like they had any influence on my life. I had no idea what that bite was about.

"The alphas, they called themselves alphas, their names were Ed and Roy, they took me to their home, and introduced me to the three they called betas, Nicole, Rachelle, and Gary. Nicole and Roy usually paired off, and Rachelle and Ed. Gary—once in a while one of the alphas would take him, but he didn't seem to enjoy it. He really wanted to be with one of the girls, but they just laughed at him.

"I sort of stayed out of the way, as much as I could, and for the most part the girls left me alone. Gary too. The alphas would...just, take me, whenever they wanted, no matter who was around. I'd wind up tied with one or the other, on the floor, in somebody's bed, outside somewhere, just waiting for their knot to go down so I could move away."

He drained about half of his water bottle and wiped his lips with the back of his hand before he continued.

"The pack had...gatherings, I guess. Where everybody would come and sit out around campfires, talk, sometimes share food. They didn't let me out of the den—the house, but when everybody got together I at least got to see other people. Other weres," he corrected himself. "I'd lost count of how long I'd been there. I think I'd given up by then, they were never going to let me go, I just felt that was true. And I wasn't strong enough to fight my way out. They would touch me—the back of my neck. Or sometimes just a look, or their voice, and I'd go still and do whatever they told me to do. So yeah, I think I'd probably given up by this time."

His eyes flickered up to hers, and away again. He sighed before he picked up his story again. "It was one of those gatherings, and I saw this girl, about my age. She was with the two guys she lived with, and the alpha had her in his arms, her back to his chest. I noticed the firelight on her face. She looked...peaceful. Happy. Her alpha bent and nibbled at a scar on her neck—I could see her shiver. And then he stroked a hand down her front and I could see the fabric of her dress tight against the swell of her belly, and I knew she was pregnant.

"Things started falling into place then—things I'd noticed but hadn't really figured out. My stomach had started getting bigger—I thought it was because I wasn't out running and doing the exercizes from football in school. But Ed came up behind me right then, and did that same stroke down my front as the other alpha had done, and he spoke right against my ear. 'Won't be long, pretty, you'll look just like that. And soon, we'll have us a whole bunch of new little pups.'"

Jensen struggled to contain and conceal his tears, and his voice caught. "Suddenly, I knew what they'd done to me. I couldn't believe it, I didn't want to admit it, but I *knew*. And I ran. I just ran, finally realizing I was headed back to the den. I didn't know anywhere else to go. Something strange started happening to my body. It was painful, but more really strange-feeling than painful. I fell onto my knees and finally onto my side, and just shook. I didn't have a clue what was happening, I just had to lay there and let it."

Samantha shifted, recrossed her legs. "You shifted. The shock from realizing you were pregnant caused your first shift."

"Yeah."

"You hadn't realized you were a werewolf until then, right? I can understand that, one shock on top of another. So that was your first experience with shifting. Did it get easier for you after that first time?"

He didn't so much as look her way. He shook his head, his mouth twisted with an emotion she couldn't identify. "I didn't shift back."

She let that statement lie there for a moment. Then, "You didn't shift back to your human form?" He shook his head no. "For how long?"

"Until I ran."

* * *

Samantha looked over the notes she had made during Jensen's session. She wanted to write this up while it was fresh, and also because she had stopped taking notes at some point in his story, and she didn't want to omit anything he had told her.

Jensen had remained in his wolf form for the rest of his first pregnancy, through delivery, and through nursing his four pups.

"The betas took care of them. They cleaned them up, played with them. They just shoved them at me when they were hungry."

He'd gotten a little lost in the past and stopped talking. "So you..." she prompted.

"I stretched out somewhere, in the house, or just outside the door, anywhere, really, and let them feed. The betas came and got them when they were done, and I usually fell asleep, or wandered off into the woods and found someplace to nap."

"They'd get old enough to eat real food and about that time I'd start another heat, and Roy and Ed would start breeding me until I caught. They wanted me to shift back, but it was better being in wolf form."

He took a drink from the water bottle in his hand. "They had changed me. I wasn't human any longer, I was something—other. Different. And walking on four legs, not talking, letting conversation wash over and around me without having to try and understand..." He shifted in his seat, and scratched at a spot on his neck. "Not having to remember, or think about anything, it was just easier to go as far away from human as I could, and to stay there. So they shifted, to breed me until I caught, and then I'd carry and whelp, and feed, and then do it all over again."

“And how many times did this happen Jensen? How many times did you….” Sam kept her voice smooth and professional.

"Three." He was looking exhausted, and she was reeling a little herself, at all this new information. And their time for the day was up.

She stopped him there, and promised they'd talk more, next time. She had a lot to process before then.

 

When the whole pack shifted to run together for the equinox at the end of September it was apparently a big deal, but Jensen didn’t see why. He didn't shift. He thought about it, but he couldn't, because nobody had taught him and he never learned how. Or maybe it was more that he wouldn't, because he had spent three years shifted, and he was free of the reasons for that, now.

School continued pretty well. There were a dozen or so kids, betas and omegas, in the same classes as Jensen, and they nodded and smiled at each other in the halls, cracked the occasional joke. It was nice. Jensen had missed that about school.

But inevitably there were a few alpha students who thought it was fun to pass too closely in the halls, so they could rub up against Jensen, to ninja up behind him and speak in his ear, usually something suggestive or just downright dirty. He got his ass stroked and patted pretty often, but there were no actual assaults, no getting crowded into a row of lockers by one, or more than one alpha knot head. Lee or Hugo still shadowed him though, and a shift in position or a hard look would back the younger alphas off.

 

Jim tried to keep tabs on his alpha students' behavior. He asked Jensen to be honest with him if any of them were getting out of hand. Things like this tended to escalate, and Beaver intended to nip that behavior in the bud, before it got worse. He wanted a no-tolerance policy, not just for Jensen, but for all his omega students. Jensen shared a few of the more intense moments, but for the most part he tried to underplay the harassment. It wasn't going to help matters getting alpha students pissed at him.

And besides Hugo and Lee, Jared or Chad were usually somewhere close, and they backed him up, or diffused a tense situation, or just walked with him from class to class, so he didn't have to travel alone. He didn't think Chad liked him very much. They didn't have a lot in common to talk about, and Jensen figured Chad had taken him on because he was Jared's project. Whatever, Jensen was grateful to the young alpha on various occasions, and he counted Chad as a friend, even if his taste in games left a lot to be desired.

* * *

Jensen met Trevor every day out by the stadium to work on the mural. It was taking shape, a spill of woodland over the crest of a hill, a cloud-filled blue sky above, and in the center, the stadium itself, full of cheering fans and opposing football teams. Jensen was impressed with Trev's artistry, both the impressionistic broad strokes and vivid color, but also with the delicate details, some as small as expressions on faces in the stands. Jared and Chad usually dropped by to help paint, and just to hang out. The days got shorter as the weather turned colder. December had arrived, and Trev was working to get as much done as possible in the waning light after school. Senior alphas still cruised by occasionally, and there were older boys in the group, a year or more past high school. They never missed an opportunity to make rude noises and suggestions to both Trevor and Jensen, though Chad, and even Jared, came to alert when the alphas wandered by, and Hugo or Lee always made themselves visible. The alphas kept walking, even while their mouths were running. Trevor looked spooked, when he wasn't so deep in concentration on his mural.

Getting home as swift twilight was giving way to full dark, Jensen saw the lights shining through the windows onto the porch floorboards, and felt the welcome. Lee or Hugo, whoever was with him that day, would say goodnight and head off on his own time, since Beaver's house was considered safe.

Jensen would take his things to his room, get online and talk to Mack for a while, sitting at his desk. Optimus Prime stood next to the keyboard, and while he talked, Jensen would pick up the toy, turn and twist parts, turning the futuristic vehicle into his humanoid shape, and then back again. Changing Optimus from one form to another seemed familiar and somehow reassuring. He'd had the toy since the Christmas he turned twelve.

Once finished with his conversation with his family, Jensen would wash up for supper. Mr. Beaver would ask about his homework, and after the meal, Jensen would bring his books and notebooks to the dining table, or into Beaver's office, and they would spend the evening companionably working on their separate tasks, or talking over a theory or a moment in history. And on rare occasions, Beaver would indulge in one of his favorite pastimes, watching werewolf movies, and Jensen was invited. The two would hole up in the den with big bowls of popcorn and Jim would ask Jensen to load a DVD at random. Jensen would laugh as Jim raged at the TV screen. “Oh, y'idjits, we don’t shift like that. You'd break your neck that way. Can’t you guys afford a were consultant on a movie?“

Sometimes Jared would come home with Jensen, and stay for supper, and almost as often, Jensen would go to Jared's for supper. At Jared's they hung out after the meal downstairs in the rec room, playing games, or watching some genre movie or other. Jared walked him home on the nights he had dinner with Jared's family. The two boys discovered a lot they had in common, from what they liked to read to the movies they liked. Jensen had missed some classics, and Jared decided to catch him up on everything important that he hadn't seen. Jensen liked spending time with Jared. He could relax with him, more than with anybody else he knew.

Christmas was coming and, using the allowance his dad sent every month, Jensen shopped for a few carefully selected things, for the people in his new life, as well as for his family. The week before Christmas, Alan and Mack came to visit, bringing presents for Jensen. They spent the whole day catching up. He took them by the stadium to show off the mural.

Jared and Chad were there, shooting hoops. He introduced both boys to his family, and bristled when Chad looked Mack up and down, and then wiggled his eyebrows at her theatrically. He stood down, though, when Chad sent him a half-grin and a wink. Mack thought he was cute.

Alan had met Jared before, of course, but he was happy to see Jensen was making friends his own age.

Jensen had kind of expected and hoped Trev would be there, working, so he could introduce him to his family, but there was no sign of the other boy. Mack and Alan were appreciative of the mural, though, and happy Jensen was involved with other people in a project.

As they spent time with Jensen, Alan noted almost another inch in height, and he could swear Jensen's shoulders had broadened. Mara's cooking obviously agreed with him, because that baggy hoodie didn't disguise the new layer of muscle that had replaced the gaunt skinniness of before. The boy stood straighter, too, and moved with more confidence. It was all progress, and he was glad to see it. It made clear to Alan that his leaving had been the right choice.

It may have appeared that Jensen had matured; time spent with his younger sister soon proved he hadn't changed that much. They were still goofy and full of pranks and play fights, teasing and silly faces, and affectionate name-calling. Alan's heart was happy, seeing them like this, and he still couldn't understand how Donna could refuse to be part of their joy.

Beaver had invited them to stay for supper, and Mara outdid herself preparing a traditional Christmas dinner. Afterwards, Jensen handed over the presents he'd bought for each of them, and his mom, and there were tight hugs, and Merry Christmas wishes, before Alan and Mack drove away.

Beaver had enlisted Jensen's help to cut, drag home, set up, and decorate the tree in the living room. There were a few wrapped packages underneath its branches already, and Jensen tucked the ones from his family in among the others. There was another one or two upstairs that still needed wrapping.

Mara had no family of her own, so she lived-in, as housekeeper for Mr. Beaver. She also joined them in celebrating on Christmas Day.

She'd gotten a new pair of fleece-lined slippers for Jim, and a tin of her homemade cookies for Jensen. Jensen's gift for her was a soft silk scarf in colors that brought out the pink in her cheeks and the blue of her eyes. She loved it, as well as the small flatscreen TV Beaver had bought for her bedroom, complete with cable hookup and DVR.

Jensen opened the presents from his family, all nice things: a fancy new tablet from Alan, a surprisingly not-garish sweater from Mack, and a scarf, very soft, and in his favorite colors from Donna.

Jensen had bought rugged flannel shirts for both Lee and Hugo, and Mr. Beaver laughed when he pulled the wrapping paper off the digitally remastered original Wolfman movie, starring Lon Chaney. Jensen and Hugo walked to Jared's house to take the picture frame, simply carved of clear walnut wood for Jared's parents. Their walls were full of family photos, so he was pretty sure they would like the frame. He left Chad's present, a lined pair of good leather gloves, under the Padaleckis' tree, figuring they would see him before Jensen did. Jared was thrilled with the latest edition of his favorite game, and Jensen promised he'd come over and play it with him before school started up again.

Their walk back to Beaver's house led by the stadium, and there was still no sign of Trevor. From what Jensen could tell, there had been no progress on the mural since the last time he and Trev had worked on it, the last day of school before break. Jensen had expected Trev to use all the time off from school to make headway on the mural. But maybe his family had plans over the holidays, and he was kept busy.

  
****

 


	6. Chapter 6

      

 

The first days of school, Jensen kept expecting to see Trevor, and find out why the mural had gone neglected all through Christmas break. He didn't see the boy, and nobody else had seen him, either. But he and Jared did run into Trip one day between classes, in the hall with a bunch of his alpha friends.

"Hey, Trip," Jared called. "Trevor needs to get back to working on the mural. I haven't seen him in school since the holidays. Is he okay?"

Trip grinned like he had a secret. "Yeah, you're gonna have to find someone else to finish the mural," he said.

"What? Why, is he sick?"

"Nah, he presented over the holidays. We always knew he was gonna turn out omega. Dad's shipped him off to our Uncle Edgar—Unc will find him a good strong mate, and six months from now Trev'll be ready to pop with his first pups."

Jared blinked, speechless for a moment while the others congratulated Trip on getting his brother mated, and the anticipation of pups in the family.

"But—" Jensen thought, but couldn't bring himself to voice. "Did he _want to go?_ To be mated? Does he even know the alpha he's going to be paired with for the rest of his life?"

It was Jared who asked, "What about his art?" thinking of the schools Trevor was considering for their art programs, the projects he was planning, the travel he hoped to do, to see artworks in other places, the inspiration he sought in others' art.

"Ah, he can maybe paint pictures in the nursery or something, or teach the pups to draw when they're older. But he's gonna have other stuff to keep him busy from now on."

Jared's gaze was distracted by Jensen's immobility. He took a quick appraising glance, not wanting to draw attention to the omega in their midst. Jensen's features were frozen in stone, stubbornly refusing to react to Trip's news. But Jared saw his jaw move as he swallowed convulsively, fighting nausea, Jared could tell. As quickly as he could, he walked Jensen away from the group, found him a place to sit, and brought him some water. Jared took a seat beside Jensen, both of them feeling a need for support. Neither of them felt like talking.

At Jensen's next session with Samantha, she recalled a question Tim had wanted answers for. "Jensen, why did you run?"

"What?"

"I mean, you haven't said you'd ever tried to escape before. Why now?"

Her patient's hands rubbed up and down his thighs, his gaze focused on his hands. She was about to repeat the question when he spoke.

"I knew what was coming, I could feel my heat coming on. As much as I hated it, when I was in heat, I craved sex with the alphas, I needed it. I never had to beg for it, but I would have. The two of them switched off, and I kept begging for more, and they always kept giving it to me until the point when, somehow, we could all tell I was pregnant. My heat disappeared, and so did their interest."

His eyes flashed up to hers and just as quickly away again. "But it didn't happen that way this time. This time Roy looped a lead around my neck and led me away from the den. I had no idea what was going on, but I really expected maybe he wanted me for himself for awhile, so I followed him. We walked for a pretty long while, and then we stopped at this building—no windows, only one door. He led me inside. It was about the size of a big horse stall, with straw spread on the floor. He pointed to a feeder water fountain in a corner, and slipped the lead off me. 'Ed and me,' he told me, 'can't leave you alone when you're in heat. And the truth is, we've got enough pups now, we can't afford to raise any more, at least not now. So you're gonna stay here till you get through your heat. One of us will come back in a few days to fetch you.'"

"He just...left you there, on your own, in heat?" Sam asked, faint horror and firm disapproval evident in her expression, though she tried her professional best to mask it.

Jensen paused, still staring at a spot on the wall in front of him. He scrubbed his hands over his face, and took a deep breath when he spoke again. "Yeah. He locked the door, and walked away. I whined and pawed the door, begging him to come back. The next few days were hell. I thought it was bad being fucked over every surface by two horny alphas when I had my heats. But it was miserable—painful, going through it alone. I wanted a knot so bad, I cried, I screamed, I begged for somebody to come and let me out and knot me.

"Nobody came. And finally, the heat broke, and I could think again. I acknowledged the fact that these two werewolves had kidnapped me, had bitten and turned me, had ended my life as a human, had turned me to make me into a breeder. And I had given them the pups they'd wanted, nine of them, three litters. And now, now they were done with me? They had enough pups so I could be tossed aside and left to endure agony all on my own? They took me, they made me into something they wanted and now—I didn't even have the purpose they ruined my life for?"

He finished the water and pitched the bottle into the recycling box.

"I'd had enough. They were done with me? There was no point in me sticking around if they didn't have a use for me anymore. I nosed at the latch, but it was locked. I whined and pawed at the door, and I worked myself into a frenzy. And then I realized, I had hands, even if I hadn't used them in a while. I could work that latch, I could get free. But first I had to shift, to get my hands back.

"So that's what I did. It took a while to figure out how to shift, but I did it, then I tore the door open, and I ran. I stumbled the first few steps, but I settled into this body pretty quickly and my balance came back.

"I had no idea where I was or what direction I should go, I just knew I had to get away before Ed or Roy came back to get me—if they came back at all.

"I hadn't worn clothes in a long time, but I figured I was going to have to find a phone, and there would be people, so I needed clothes. I stole pants and a shirt off somebody's laundry line. They didn't fit, but they covered me, so I kept running. I stumbled across a ranger's cabin, and there was a big wooden sign in the parking lot with a map of the area painted on it. I didn't recognize any of the places, but it gave me a starting point. I kept looking for a map big enough to have a place I knew on it, so I'd know where I was.

"I found one near a boat ramp on a lake–it had Early City on it, right on the edge of the forest. Now that I knew where I was, I found a phone, and I called my old phone number, and Dad answered."

He looked at her for the first time. "And the rest, you know."

 

Jim noticed at dinner that Jensen looked more tired than usual, and remarked on it. "You feeling all right, boy?"

Jensen sipped at his iced tea and nodded. "I'm fine."

"Everything okay at school?"

The kid nodded, but Jim caught the hesitation. "Jensen, what's going on? I can't help if you don't tell me. Are your classes too hard? Do you need to cut back on the work for a while?"

Jensen shook his head. "No, the class work is fine, it's not that." He poked at his peas with his fork, and finally admitted, "It's the constant business with the senior alphas."

Jim frowned at the news. "Are they harassing you at school?"

"At school, after school, in town, pretty much everywhere." He smirked as he tore a dinner roll in half. "God's gift, every single one of them. And they're gonna make sure I know it."

"I'm sorry, Jensen. I've been aware they're acting too big for their britches. I just didn't know they'd targeted you."

Jensen shook his head. "I don't know if they're messing with me any more than any other kid who's not a senior alpha, and I’ve got Hugo and Lee on my side. But it just gets old, having to be on your guard all the time. Trying to pick routes from class to class to avoid them—can't always be done. And they just don't let anything go. It's constant with them."

"Well, I'm glad you told me. I've had a few talks with some of the ringleaders before, but evidently it wasn't enough. That behavior is not acceptable, and I'm going to see what can be done about it," Beaver promised.

Jensen's tired smile was still nice to see. "Thanks."

 

Beaver called and asked to sit down with Kim and Ty to talk about the Sons and the unwanted influence they were having on his senior alphas. Rhodes picked up the phone and dialed Omundson, who got on video right away, and the four of them discussed the problem.

"There are some new families moving in out east of town," Ty told them. "They're not too friendly toward strangers, and so far, they seem to be living off the grid."

"Fenris pack?" Omundson speculated.

"Not certain," Ty said, with a headshake. "But I'm thinking it's pretty likely."

Kim jumped at the chance to ask Omundson for people to investigate. "And we might be asking them to move on. I don't think Fenris pack members make good neighbors."

There was a general murmur of agreement, and then Jim asked, "Have you heard from Morgan? How's the hunt going for the alphas who took Jensen?"

"It's ongoing," Tim said. "As a matter of fact, now that I've talked to you, I'm going to ask Morgan to send a team out here. This looks like the first opportunity we've had to actually contact Fenris pack."

"They are reclusive fuckers," Jim observed grimly.

Omundson looked at Ty and Kim. "You might want to hold off on rousting those new neighbors of yours until Morgan's men have a chance to ask them some questions."

 

The senior alphas didn't let up. The teasing and taunting kept up—and even got worse. It was edging on bullying, and Jensen never knew when he would run into one, or more, of the group. Lee and Hugo did their best, but the alphas were tricky, and as often as not, one or two of them decoyed Jensen's guards away for a few minutes, while the rest went after Jensen. Even if it was only taunting and verbal harassment, it was wearing him down. He did his best to stay close to other people, not to get caught alone. Jared was aware how difficult the seniors were making Jensen's life, and he stayed close to Jensen when he could. The senior alphas weren't afraid of a beta, not even one as big as Jared. But they didn't seem to like having a witness to their hazing of the pretty omega.

Jensen considered Jared his best friend, and he was grateful for Jared's support and friendship. They didn't talk about it, but they actually shared a lot of interests, they laughed at the same things, had similar senses of humor, and could talk together about practically any subject, mostly without embarrassment. Jensen wasn't close with anybody his own age but Jared, and sometimes Chad.

Because Chad was an alpha, and because the seniors and the Sons were both cocky and careless, they talked pretty freely around him. He heard a lot, and he told Jared the Sons were really interested in Jensen.

Jared didn't share that knowledge with Jensen, but he passed it on to Lee, and Hugo, who were still guarding Jensen, though more casually and at more of a distance, trying to give the kid some room. Lee had intervened a time or two, and so had Hugo, when Jensen got harassed on the street, leaving a movie, or coming home from school. They sent the young alphas on their way, after some strong warnings, and they mentioned the incidents to Omundson.

But after hearing about the Sons' interest, Jared made it a point to stick closer to Jensen, without making a big deal about it.

 

It was just a block to Principal Beaver's house, and it was a beautiful afternoon. Jared had just peeled off to stop by the bookstore, and Jensen was sure Hugo was around somewhere.

But not close enough. A car pulled up next to the sidewalk and three alphas jumped out and wrestled Jensen into the back seat. Whooping in triumph, the driver gunned the car, making it fishtail as it took off. Jensen was shoved into the floorboard and couldn't see anything. He tried kicking and punching, but somebody wrapped rope around his arms, pinning them against his ribs, and his hands were jerked painfully behind him, the rope wound around them and tied tight. A hand patted the top of his head, "'S okay, Jennybean. We're gonna take good care of you."

A stream of profanity erupted from Jensen and somebody else snickered and shoved a dirty wad of rag into his mouth. "Now, now, Jenny boy, pretty is as pretty does. And that's not very pretty talk."

Jensen continued to thrash and scream into his gag, and a sudden hard pinch to the skin over his ribs made him yell louder. Finally, someone slapped him across the jaw, and he lost his breath for a few seconds. A pair of yellow eyes in a dark, hawkish face peered into his and a hand tightened on his jaw. "Stow that crap, omega." His jaw was shaken, like a dog with a chew toy. "This is happening, you might as well relax and enjoy it."

No. No. Nonononono. This couldn't be happening. Jared—where was Jared? Where was Hugo? Somebody—somebody had to have seen him get taken. Somebody had to know where he was. He just had to hold on. Somebody would come for him. They had to. He thrashed again and screamed his rage and frustration into the gag, and a hand reached down and pinched his nostrils shut. He couldn't breathe through his mouth because of the gag, and now... He struggled, but the fingers didn't let go. And then...

He woke up tied to a chair in somebody's basement rec room. There was a foosball table, and a flatscreen mounted on the wall over a fireplace and a couch and deep stuffed armchairs arranged around it. Over in the corner was a damn juke box. Where the hell?

He heard sniggers and laughing behind him, and one of the alphas sauntered into his field of view with a beer can in one hand. "Hey, he's awake!"

"Oh good," another voice, and its owner came around to stand looking him over. "Rude of you to pass out and hold up the party, 'mega," this alpha said, taking a swig from the bottle of Jim Beam he carried. "'s okay, though. His eyebrow arched. "Heightens the antici—"

"—pation!" several voices joined in.

Two more alphas walked into Jensen's view. These guys were older than high school age, and there was an intensity, a hardness about them that he recognized—Sons of Fenris. Oh god, he was in deep shit. He might have been able to get the seniors drunk or talk his way out of this with them. But not with the Sons. Dedicated to the creedo that alphas were near-gods and entitled to take whatever they wanted, there was no hope an omega could ever appeal to reason or mercy with them. He sagged in his bonds, his chin down toward his chest, his eyes closing.

"Nah-ah-ah!" one of the seniors caroled. "We want to see those pretty green eyes, 'mega. You keep them open. You're gonna see something you'll like, I promise."

Jensen doubted it.

He didn't know who made the first move, but the bonds around his arms were cut, his still tied hands jacked up between his shoulder blades so he couldn't try to wriggle free. They marched him on tiptoe across the room and threw him face down on a bed in a corner of the room he hadn't seen till now, and started pulling at his clothes. His jacket and shirt weren't coming off unless they untied his hands, so one bright light pulled out a knife and started slashing the fabric, catching skin now and then.

He was having a lot of fun, by the way he was giggling and snorting as he ripped at Jensen's clothes. But an older alpha, doubtless one of the Sons, took the knife away from him and proceeded to rip delicately at the cloth, digging just the tip between the threads, and severing a path through the fabric, being careful to only nip Jensen's skin in small cuts, here and there, when the knife caught.

Jensen was torn between lying still to avoid being cut, and flinging himself at the knife in hopes of startling the alpha enough he might drop the knife, or at least give Jensen an opening to run.

It went on for a while. The other alphas complained that the one with the knife was taking too long. Someone grabbed it, and violently rent the last of his shirt and hoodie apart, exposing Jensen's chest and arms when they pulled the cloth away. Hands. Hands all over him, stroking, petting, pinching while they crooned at him and taunted him and made him promises that turned his blood to ice water. He wanted to throw up, but he suddenly felt a tug at his fly, and someone was drawing down the zipper, slow, making him feel every pair of teeth as they parted until it was all the way down.

He rolled, to try and keep them from removing his jeans, but there were seven of them—he'd counted—and one of him, and they were alpha, and he was just an omega. His jeans were yanked away, and they rolled him onto his back, and all but one or two stood back a little to look at their prize. The one sitting next to his hip stroked his arm, starting at the shoulder and dragging fingertips down to his wrist. The hand stopped, and his arm was grabbed, turned, and the hand poked at the implant.

"Well damn," the alpha said, turning Jensen's arm to show the rest of them. "He's got one of those implants, keep him from getting knocked up!"

The flick of an opening knife sounded loud in the sudden quiet, and then the knife's owner said, "Well, that's easy. We can just cut it out of him."

"Yeah," someone else said. "I bet he's on supps, too, aren't you, Jenny?"

The point of the knife touched his chin, just behind the bone in the soft part of his jaw. "Are you on suppressants, 'mega?"

Jensen's lips drew back in a snarl of frustrated rage. He couldn't speak past the wadded rag in his mouth, but he raged,"Yes, damn you!" even if he couldn't form the words. They understood him.

"Aw. Well, we'll just have to keep you, then, till your last dose runs out. Bring you right into heat then, won't it?" He smiled wide, and reached to tweak Jensen's nipple. "Be begging for it, from all of us, sweetheart. Not an unsolvable problem."

The alpha pulled the rag out of Jensen's mouth, and leaned down to maul his mouth in a brutal parody of a kiss. Jensen jerked violently aside and gasped a breath. The eyes of the alpha bored into his, and he just smiled a slow, wide smile full of teeth and rolled Jensen over onto his belly.

The alpha leaned in, licking at Jensen's neck. He spoke in a low, gravelly voice that had more than a shade of alpha in it. "They didn't mate you, did they? No mating mark. That's lucky for us, pretty."

He licked a wide, slow, wet stripe from Jensen's shoulder up to his ear, biting hard on the lobe. "Uncle Ed said you were pretty. He wasn't lying, you are a very pretty little thing."

Jensen went still, except for his heart suddenly trying to beat its way out of his chest.

"He's gonna be so happy to see you, honey. He's missed you." His cock rutted against Jensen's ass, parting his cheeks and rubbing over his hole. "And you've got a whole big family of little ones who've been missing their momma—they're gonna be happy to see you, too."

Horror overrode the paralyzing fear, and Jensen struggled to escape the alpha's grasp. "People will be looking for me! Omundson will be on your sorry asses. They'll find me long before that happens," Jensen snarled. He tried to make it sound like he believed it. He hoped they believed it. He wanted to believe it.

"I'm sure," the alpha purred, completely unaffected by the omega's puny threats. "Well, just in case that's true, maybe we'd better get on with the proceedings at hand." He grinned and turned to the others. "Right, boys?"

And the whole group roared their approval.

 

Chad flipped idly through the CDs in the bin, looking for something interesting. His ears perked up as the shop door creaked open and footsteps hurried toward the lunch counter. "Dude!" a random voice said. "They grabbed that omega kid! Right off the street!"

"What, the one that got bit and turned? Who grabbed him?"

"You know, Greg and Tony and those other alphas, the ones that hang around with the Sons."

"Yeah?"

Chad risked a glance, and saw the kid stand, pull a couple of bills out of his wallet and throw them on the counter. "Where'd they take him?"

"Tony's stepdad's house, I think. His mom and stepdad are away for the weekend, so they've got the basement all to themselves till they get home!"

Both kids hurried out of the store, one asking the other, "You think they'll share..?"

Chad pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial for Jared. It rang a couple of times, and then, "H'lo?"

"Jared. Where are you, man?"

"Home. What's up?"

"Jensen's been grabbed."

"What? By who?" Before Chad could answer, suspicion crept into Jared's voice. This might be a prank, even though it was a piss-poor one. "How do you know?"

"I overheard a couple of kids talking."

Chad was out of the store and on the street, heading in Jared's direction. "They said it was senior alphas, plus some of the Sons. They're supposed to be holding him at Tony Benbow's stepdad's house. Listen, I'm calling the sheriff, and maybe he'll let me ride along. You want to call Alpha Omundson? And maybe Principal Beaver?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll do that. Chad?"

"What?" Chad was impatient to get Jared off the phone so he could call in to the sheriff's office."

"Thanks. And be careful!"

"Likewise," Chad said, hitting disconnect and dialing 911.

 

It all went completely to shit after that. There were three or four of them on him at any given time, licking, biting, snuffling at his throat, under his arms, in his hair. And hands, hands stroking and pinching twisting and pulling at his nipples. Finally his briefs were pulled off and one of them took his dick in hand. The traitor thing rose at a touch, and hardened at the attention that Jensen didn't want. Didn't matter, his body didn't listen to his mind, or his heart, and he was made to come. His legs were hoisted high, and fingers probed at his hole. He was covered in hands, in tongues, in sensations he couldn't decipher, couldn't process, couldn't override.

"Who's first?" rang out, and several voices replied. Someone shouldered between Jensen's upraised legs, and he wanted to fight, he wanted to break away from the hands holding him down, but he couldn't. He couldn't. He wasn't strong enough, and his traitor body didn't go along with that plan, at all. No matter what he wanted, this was happening. Again. And he was powerless to prevent it. Again.

And then, dimly, he heard the crack of a door hitting the brick wall as it was thrown open. Voices shouted, deep mature alpha voices that couldn't be withstood. The hands fell away, Jensen's legs dropped to the bed. He lay, spread open and unable to move as someone gathered him up, spoke gently as they wrapped him in the bedsheet and carried him out of the basement.

 

It was days later before he spoke to anybody. Beaver stayed nearby, and Tim dropped by to look in on Jensen, to pat him on the leg and speak words of encouragement. He could sense Hugo and Lee in the house, but they didn't show themselves, and he thought that was due to shame and regret. It wasn't really their fault; it all happened so fast. And Jensen would tell them that, tell them thanks for finding him, for getting him out of that basement hellhole. He would tell them, but it was going to take a little while.

He emerged from his bedroom, and ate the meal Mara made just for him. He sat in Mr. Beaver's office. They didn't talk, but the company was comforting. Tim dropped by again, now that Jensen was up, and he told Jensen that the Sons were in jail, and the senior alphas were awaiting a council decision on what would be done with them. "They'll be punished," he promised. And he could tell that Jensen accepted the justice of it, but it didn't help with the rage and futility he was feeling. He gripped the boy's shoulder as he left, with the reminder that he was available if Jensen wanted to talk.

They asked if they should call Alan, and Jensen said no. There was nothing he could do, and he would just feel awful. It was Jensen's to deal with, so leave Alan out of it.

Morgan made a special trip, once Jensen was up and talking again. They sat together in Beaver's office, and Morgan told him that it was Jared and Chad who found out what had happened, who called for help, who were responsible for finding him. That brought a smile to Jensen's face—a small one, but a smile.

Gauging Jensen's strength, Morgan told him that Ed had been found, and arrested, and was awaiting trial. Meanwhile he was being interrogated about the whereabouts of Roy.

"Thank you. Thank you for telling me. Thanks for catching him," Jensen said.

"You should feel safe, now," Morgan reassured him. "Roy won't come for you on his own."

Jensen thanked Alpha Morgan again, and once he left, Jensen sat for a long while, and tried to feel reassured, and safe. It didn't work.

 

He talked to Samantha, and that only added strength to the idea that had been growing in his mind. He checked in with Dr. Speight to make sure his implant was okay, that the suppressants' effect hadn't been compromised by his ordeal. The doctor assured him he was all good on both counts.

He told Speight and anybody else who would listen that he would _never_ be put in that position again. That he was tired of being careful, of being paranoid, and it didn't matter anyway because he could be grabbed at any time, his suppressants withheld, his implant cut away. He was still an omega, the danger would always exist. And he couldn't live anymore as an omega.

He had done his research, studied all sides of the issue, and it changed nothing. He wanted a hysterectomy—the treatment prescribed as a last-ditch measure for omegas with life-threatening disease or trauma. It had never been, and wasn't ever likely to be approved for removing an omega's healthy organs.

Jensen talked it over with Mr. Beaver, who was patient enough to sit and discuss the issue several times. He asked his help to arrange a meeting with Dr. Ferris, Dr. Speight, and Alpha Omundson. Since his visit from Alpha Morgan, and the alpha's personal involvement, bringing news he believed would provide some relief and closure, Jensen felt that Alpha Morgan might be an ally in what Jensen planned to do. He contacted Morgan's office and asked him to come meet with Jensen and the others, and Beaver was surprised when the Alpha said yes.

 

Omundson expected Jensen to ask to use his office for the meeting, or perhaps Dr. Ferris' office. He, and everyone else was surprised when they were invited to sit around Principal Beaver's dining room table. The adults didn't know it, except for Beaver himself, but Jared was in the office, where he could hear, but not be seen. He had, after all, no information to share, no knowledge to contribute. But Jensen wanted him there, to hear and witness the proceedings first hand, so that, whatever the verdict, Jensen would not have to recount and retell the events. And Jared was willing, even eager, if Jensen could know he was supported, even if Jared wasn't actually at the table.

Once everyone was gathered and seated, with glasses and carafes of water within reach, Jensen thanked each of them for coming. And then he launched into his plea, and his reasons for making it.

"I wasn't born an omega—I wasn't born a werewolf. I was changed, against my will, and with no chance for refusal or appeal, for one purpose. The wolves—the alphas—who kidnapped me wanted a breeder, and they liked my looks." He swept the circle, looking into each of their faces, before he went on.

"Nothing was explained to me. Things were done to me without understanding or consent, and I existed in a state of ignorance and despair for three years." He sipped at his glass and then set it down. "When I escaped, my one thought was to return to the life I'd had stolen away. To go back to my home, my family, my friends and my school, and to pick up the threads again and make up for lost time. Very soon, it became clear to me that none of that was ever going to happen. That not only had my life been interrupted by someone else's desires, it had been ended. That while it existed, in a real way, I no longer did, at least not in the way I did before, the way I needed to, to be able to reclaim my life."

Omundson shifted in his seat and prepared to say something. Jensen spoke quietly, politely. But he was heard by all of them. "Let me finish."

"I've been told to start a new life, to learn to be a werewolf, become part of the pack, let go of my life before, of who I was born to be, and become a new thing.

"Part of the existence of that new thing includes belonging to another person. Being obedient, receptive, submissive. Always looking to others to decide important things about my life." He swallowed, and sipped more water. "I haven't made any judgments on anyone else's life. I don't have the authority or experience to argue self-determination with born omegas. They fit into the society—into the pack—as they are meant to, and accept the life they live."

He leaned forward and once again met each pair of eyes before he spoke. "I wasn't born omega. I have tried to live as an omega, but I've finally realized that I can't do that. To be always afraid, to have my independence, my self-determination, my self-worth, dictated by someone—anyone—who decides what my life should be? To have no recourse? No appeal? No other way? That isn't living. Not for me.

"I'm very aware I can't go back to being human, and I'm just becoming aware that there are possibly positive things about being a werewolf. But please believe I'm entirely truthful when I say, I am unable to live as an omega."

Morgan cleared his throat, asking Jensen's permission to speak, and Jensen nodded.

"But Jensen, what alternative is there? You say you can't go back to being human—and that maybe, now, you don't want to be human, that you might learn to be happy as a were. But you are omega. We've done everything we can with modern medicine to suppress your heats, to prevent pregnancies. What else can we do?"

Jensen breathed deep. This was the moment his future rested on. "Sterlization. Removal of everything that makes me omega. Make me a beta, and let me live free of the fear that someone—anyone—on a whim, or with some purpose that has nothing to do with _my will_ can remove my access to suppressants and contraception. Can force me into heats, into pregnancy, whenever they want."

Omundson spoke. "There are laws," he began, and Jensen shut him down. 

"And we see how well they work." Omundson had the grace to look rueful as Jensen continued. "I know that because none of you are omega you can't really understand how deeply my aversion runs. But truly, without one bit of overdramatizing, and from the bottom of my heart, if I'm forced to remain an omega, there is no point in living. I can't live in constant fear. I can't cower and wait, expecting catastrophe with every breath I take.

"I'm aware sterlization is forbidden except in cases that are life threatening. I suggest to you that my case is exactly that. I wasn't born an omega, I was never meant to be an omega. I can't live as an omega. Allow me the surgery to realign my gender to beta, and let me live the fullest life that's possible for me."

 

**Epilogue.**

Jensen strode up the hill, breathing deep, and muscles working loosely and strong. He felt no threat of danger, didn't feel the need to move furtively from one sheltered point to the next, not any more. Jared waited for him at the top of the hill, and they fell into step together.

"You look good." Jared smiled. It was nice to see.

"I feel great," Jensen grinned back. "Let's do this."

They both started stripping out of their clothes, and Jensen said, "It's time I learn what it's like to be a werewolf."

They shifted at the same time, Jensen just a second or two behind. Jared play-bowed, and Jensen snuffled at his neck. With a yip, they both turned and dashed off through the trees.

 

Fin

 

_**Comments are like fuel for the soul**  || **[Art Post](https://liliaeth.livejournal.com/504707.html)**_

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Many many thanks to wendy for her usual wonderful job of herding cats, and special thanks for accommodating my hardship need for a delayed posting date.
> 
> Thanks to liliaeth for her evocative artwork. Check out her art post here, and leave her some appreciation.
> 
> How to thank meus_venator for her amazing duty as both alpha and beta reader, as well as tech-assist. Cookies? Cabana boys? Whatever you'd like, my dear!
> 
> Born male, circumstances changed Jensen's status. He had to fight for the surgery to realign him to his true gender. His story would never have been finished without the kindness of friends.


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